


destiny.

by jungnoir



Category: K-pop, 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS
Genre: Angel Kim Seokjin | Jin, Angel Park Jimin, Angel/Demon Relationship, Angel/Human Relationships, Cross-Posted on Tumblr, Demon Jung Hoseok | J-Hope, Demon Kim Namjoon | RM, Demon Min Yoongi | Suga, Depression, F/M, Fallen Angel Jeon Jungkook, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, I'm also editing the chapters as I post them here!, M/M, Minor Character Death, Polyamory, References to Depression, Religious Conflict, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, Violence, basically you're a sad human who meets your guardian angel, but there's hella moral stuff going on it's a doozy, but you'll learn, god is not exactly like the biblical god and satan is not exactly like biblical satan, shit gets real, you also work at a bar with a demon prince named yoongi, you have a hard time loving yourself
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-16
Updated: 2019-06-04
Packaged: 2019-08-02 19:03:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 30,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16310918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jungnoir/pseuds/jungnoir
Summary: you’re just about ready to give up on life altogether; your love life is in ruins, you’ve lost your job, and your family couldn’t care less about you… and then you meet your blushing guardian angel, and maybe life isn’t so bad after all.(currently editing and uploading the chapters from tumblr).





	1. i. rule one

**Author's Note:**

> hello! I originally posted this fic on my tumblr (jungnoir), but I wanted to see how this would do another platform, so I'm posting it here. I've put some of the chapters together to make up for the word count. thank you for giving it a chance, and please leave me any feedback you might have!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> you meet jungkook.

**_Rule I: Each angel is granted three warnings. If an angel sins, a warning is given. If an angel uses up all three warnings, that angel is stripped of their wings and cursed to live out their days as a human, with no guardian angel of their own to protect them from harm. When this fallen angel dies, they are headed for hell. No exceptions._ **

* * *

 

Hanging from above Han River, you couldn’t help thinking about how inviting the water looked below. You could already feel the icy water enveloping you, biting your skin until you felt nothing, as the same water filled your lungs and your eyes shut for the last time. That’s what you would have  _liked_  to have happened, at least. 

You were just seconds from letting go of the railing, thoughts of nothing but emptiness and calmness overtaking your mind, when a strong arm wrapped around your middle and you felt yourself being jerked backward roughly, right back onto the gravelly ground, nowhere near as peaceful as the water you had almost plunged into. Your eyes were shut tight still, the anticipation for death so mercilessly ripped from your fingertips that you all but screamed out of frustration. You shot open your eyes, ready to yell obscenities at whomever had dared play hero this time. This wasn’t your first brush with death, yet somehow,  _somehow_ , every time you got close to the edge, something ended up pulling you back. A phone call, a last, sudden thought of someone or something that you loved, and now this asshole.

You focused in on the sight before you; you were still laying on your back, your fists clenched into your coat as you stared up at the starry sky, the last thing you had hoped you’d be seeing, now all you were seeing. And there was someone panting beside you, their warm breath heating up your earlobe with every exhale. You turned with such speed that the person beside you gasped, and you locked eyes with them… and frowned. “Who… do you  _think_ you are?” You growl, unable to contain the rage building in your chest at the brown eyed stranger. His big, doe eyes are all you can see, he’s so close, and surely had this been any other day, you might have actually been bashful in his presence, but right now you were far too angry to care about formalities. As soon as you sent this guy on his way, you’d be right back at it again. Hopefully.

“N-no one. I mean… what were you about to do?” The stranger’s eyes flickered from your eyes to your nose, to your lips, and back to your eyes again, still panting as if he had run a mile to catch you. Had he? You were sure nobody was nearby when you had closed your eyes. 

Huffing, you prop yourself up on the sidewalk and press yourself against the ice cold railing, which had once been quite warm under your fingertips, now feeling uncomfortable to the touch, “What did it look like, dude?” The stranger is still laid out on his back, awkwardly staring at you down his chest, before pushing himself up onto his elbows, looking strangely… worried. It wasn’t even the fake kind of worry that you had become accustomed to, it actually looked real.

You had been dealing with this for at least a decade, maybe longer. Your family had never been proud of you, had always pushed you to be something so unattainably perfect that sometimes you lost sleep due to the stress. You had thought that maybe that was just your problem, that maybe you’d be thirty someday with an amazing job and an amazing significant other and friends and you’d laugh about your childhood. You had hoped that a shitty family was going to be that  _one_  thing that you had to bounce back from. And for a while, it seemed that was how it was going to be.

You had graduated high school and you were now going to college, and on your first day, you’d befriended the cute guy seated next to you in class. You two had started with complimenting each other’s laptop backgrounds, and three months down the line you two were inseparable. Sure, you had trouble making any lasting friends, but you had him! You had even felt proud enough to take him home to your family (due to your mother’s threatening requests), and even they had congratulated you on finding someone who wasn’t as disappointing as you. You had brushed aside their remarks, had laughed about it in the car with your boyfriend because your family was just that one shitty thing you had to bounce back from. You could handle that, you could handle their disapproval with a silently heavy heart if it meant that you had a family of your own design waiting for you out there. 

And then four years down the line (five weeks ago from today), you found yourself standing in your boyfriend’s doorway, with a bouquet of roses and an unopened box of chocolates for your anniversary, watching as he fucked another person into the charcoal sheets you two had bought together two months ago. He'd forgotten all of that for one night, forgotten all of _you_ for one night. You had gone back home in such a frustrated, teary rush that you had unknowingly walked into oncoming traffic, and in that moment, the idea of being hit had been all too welcoming. For once, you wanted to silence your thoughts once and for all, tamp down that loathing that clawed at your chest in the late nighttime if only to live another day as normally as possible. You had thought about it before, never quite sure you'd take the choice into your own hands... this way, you wouldn't really have to.

But the car missed, and that one last, idiotic shred of hope in your heart held fast to that. You had thought that maybe… maybe now you just had two shitty things to bounce back from, but you would. Relationships weren't the end of the world and life wasn’t that bad, right?

 _And then_  the one job you had been working so hard at getting, the one job that made you wish you could rub it into your parents’ faces every waking second because  _I did it, I proved I wasn’t a hopeless mess after all_ had been ripped from your fingers, your boss’s personal assistant firing you as soon as you had gotten to work because “You’re just not on par with what we expect from your position. We’ve found a replacement and she excels at your job. We really do wish you the best, but we'll have to let you go. I hope you can understand.” You had to admit, you had begun to let your personal life affect your work, but you had no idea that your loyalty to the company was considered as meaningless to them as was your relationship to your ex.

Everything was falling apart before you, and you were so consumed in anger and repressed hate for yourself that when it had all bubbled back to the surface, you had found the nearest bar to drown yourself in sorrow. Halfway into the night, after one too many passive remarks from passing strangers about how “sad” and “pitiful” you looked, you had made your decision. You hailed a cab to Han River, climbed over the railing, spent a whole fifteen seconds saying goodbye to whatever else you had been happy to experience in your life, and let go… but even that had gone wrong.

“If you had fallen from that height, y-you would have died! Why would you do something like that?” You watched the stranger sputter, and took the time he was occupied with scolding you to examine him. He looked young but around your age; with his chubby cheeks and baby face, you’d almost mistake him for a teenager at first glance.  _A tall, beefy teenager at that_.

He... he also looked far too pretty to be human. Maybe it was the alcohol, but the stranger seemed to glow under the moonlight and the headlights from the cars on the bridge. It wasn't like a sheeny, sweaty glow either. He quite literally looked luminescent, full of stars restrained under his skin. And those _doe eyes_... those really were a sight. You couldn’t tear your gaze away from them once you looked back at him, the brown irises framed by long, gentle eyelashes that fluttered closed every few heartbeats, making him look almost… angelic. Angelic? what were you talking about? Was the cold getting to your head now?

“(Name)…” The stranger spoke your name with such familiarity that you gasped, yanked back to reality at once. How in the world did this boy know your name, and why did he say it so softly, so fondly, like he'd known you your whole life? You surely hadn’t met this boy before. You'd remember someone like him no matter how drunk off your ass you were. “How do you know my name?” You blink, your thoughts cleared of the want to thrust yourself over the railing again so that the desire could no longer linger. No, now your mind was clouded in a panic. Had this guy been stalking you? Jesus, your life was getting worse by the second.

Immediately, the boy seemed to register what he’d said, because he quickly backtracked, scrambling away from you as if to give you space, yet no matter how much he put between the two of you, you felt it wasn’t enough, “I… I just… I guessed.” “You didn’t guess, there's no way you could've guessed. How do you know my name?” You glare at him, your fists clenching again. The further the boy backed away, the more you pushed forward. He wasn’t going to make a run for it. If he had the guts to save your life and knew your name without you knowing his, you’d be damned if you didn’t find out why. 

Looking as fearful as a deer in headlights, the boy continued to crawl backwards, “Wait, I can explain-” “I’m _waiting_.” You interrupt, and to insure he wouldn’t go running off, you lunge forward, catching him by surprise as your hands find his shoulders and you shove him back against the concrete, hard enough to daze him. You settle all your weight onto him and frown, leaning your face just close enough to his own to scare him. If he already wasn’t close to wetting his pants, he was now.

Gulping, the boy took a few deep breaths, unable to look away from your demanding gaze no matter how terrified he was of you. And then, gently, he answered, “I’m your guardian angel, Jungkook.”

* * *

You had sprinted home without another word, all the fight in you having dissipated as soon as you’d heard the boy’s ridiculous explanation. He hadn’t followed you, from what you had observed anyway, but you were still constantly checking over your shoulder, even after you had settled into your house with a huff. Today had been terrible, the unsettling thoughts that had been plaguing you for so long finally coming to a head. Without much left for life to really throw at you at this point, you were more than ready to just give up. And then Jungkook came.

You didn’t like that you remembered his name, but it wasn’t exactly like you could forget. How could you ever forget the stranger crazy enough to declare themselves your guardian angel, right after saving you from dropping off the side of a bridge? You felt your face flush as you groaned, sinking to the floor in an ashamed and pained heap. You really couldn’t just up and throw yourself off the raised platform, now that you (somewhat) soberly thought about it; you had a lovely cat at home to feed, and one of the only people you'd trust to babysit her had just swiped up your job less than twelve hours ago. Speaking of such a cat…

“Mook? I'm home.” You call pitifully from your spot beside your front door, waiting for the sound of the little kitty’s claws to pitter-patter on their way to you, but you hear nothing. Frowning, you push yourself up and reach behind you, taking care to double check the lock on your front door before going off in search of the black and white feline.

Mook was, in a sense, your best friend, as sad as it sounded. Sometimes, you could only find solace in the young cat who, despite her age, had managed to act more like a senior citizen than your own grandparents. She’d lounge around without a care, eat like a teenage boy, and remain far too lazy to play with the toys you’d gotten her months ago when you’d first brought her home as just a kitten. You rather liked her carefree attitude, but you were always worried you had done something wrong when taking care of her. She had been a rather energetic thing at the pet shop, but once she’d settled down with you for a week, she had become a sloth. Still, even then, she always made an effort to greet you whenever you came home from work.

Hiccuping the taste of beer out of your mouth, you walked up the stairs to your room, expecting to find the cat splayed out across your mattress with a tail raised in greeting. What you hadn’t expected was for Jungkook to be sat beside her, his slender fingers running through her fur as if  _he_  was her owner. What's more, she was accepting the caresses with no concern.

Standing frozen in the doorway to your room and the lamp from your bedside table the only thing illuminating Jungkook’s face, the boy turns his gaze to you and sighs, “Sorry, she’s just been scared of me for so long. I thought I might try to befriend her.” 

You had no clue what he had meant by that and frankly, you didn't care too much. You were far more occupied with grasping the nearest weapon to you (which happened to be a heavy candle), and while you weren’t proud of your choice, it was all you had if you wanted to put up at least some semblance of a fight. Raising the weapon above your head, you watch Jungkook’s eyes turn almost sad, “Alright asshole, I’m going to give you a five second head start before I call the cops. And that’s _after_ I tackle you and beat you senseless with… with this.” You clutch the Birthday Cake scented Yankee candle a little tighter. 

“(Name), not to alarm you or anything… but that candle isn’t going to hurt me. In the very least, it’ll break apart on contact.” He says calmly, still thumbing across Mook’s pink tummy. You move forward an inch to intimidate him, and he flinches a bit before going back to watching you with that same, kicked-puppy expression.

“You don’t know me, I took karate classes.” You lie. “You didn’t, I _know_ you didn't. Even so, if I was really a threat, you would have been unconscious or… dead, by now.” “Stop talking like you know me!” You shout, and in your sudden rage, rush forward.

Within a span of five seconds, you’re disarmed, one arm twisted behind your back at such an angle that you know you can’t free it without hurting yourself, but Jungkook seems to take care in not hurting you, just immobilizing you. Your “weapon” thumps against the carpet and rolls away, and Mook is staring up at the two of you with mild disinterest and annoyance at the attention being taken away from her. You suddenly wish you’d opted for a scary German Shepherd all those months ago instead. 

“I’m sorry this is such an awkward first meeting,” Jungkook starts, standing behind you with his head bowed, as if he’s actually sorrowful.

You crane your neck just to make eye contact with him, the scowl on your face evident, “How long have you been following me?” “Since birth.” He says simply, and had you actually believed in all that supernatural stuff, you might’ve believed him too. “Cut the guardian angel crap, those aren’t real.” You struggle in his hold, and his hand loosens, just enough for you to pull out of his grasp as you tumble forward, nearly crashing into the bed after being let go so suddenly. You spin around, and he’s left standing in the middle of your room with his hands deep in his pockets and his cheeks dusted pink. Again, you can’t help noticing the glow on his skin, and you’re inclined to believe him again. 

And he still has that damn sad look on his face.

“Haven’t you ever wondered? Felt my presence, even? Mook has, that’s why she stares into space so often.” As if to prove the point, he raises his hand to gesture at Mook, who is sat upright now, staring at him in the same position she does when…  _holy shit_ , the kid’s right. Or… maybe he was just a really attentive stalker. Either thought makes you shiver.

“Mook’s a cat, she does all kinds of strange things I don’t notice. All you’ve proven is that you’ve been inside my house without my consent.” You conclude. Jungkook’s expression suddenly turns annoyed, and you’re almost certain he rolls his eyes underneath his feathery brown fringe, “What do I have to do to prove to you that I’m the real deal?” He asks, exasperated, and you can almost picture him internally with his hands on his hips and his head cocked in frustration… but back to the matter at hand.

“Don’t angels have wings? Show me those.” You decide, glancing at his shoulder blades before making eye contact with him again. The annoyance in his stare melts, replaced with a sudden shyness that makes you think maybe he’s gone impossibly redder in the cheeks. His hands reluctantly grasp at the hem of his dark green bomber jacket, his gaze shifting from your eyes to your socked feet, “…I’m already in trouble for showing myself to you, so you’re only getting a quick peek.” He explains, tugging off his jacket and letting it fall to the floor at his feet. You quickly realize what you’ve asked him to do when he’s tugging his white tee shirt over his head, so you avert your eyes bashfully, wishing the white bed covers could just swallow you whole at this point. You hear shuffling, so you look back toward Jungkook who’s now standing with his back facing you, and you can’t hide the shocked gasp that leaves your lips at the two,  _very_  long and  _very_  white wings sprouting from between Jungkook’s shoulder blades. His left wing is curled in as to not hit the wall, and his right wing is just brushing the window (which you so helpfully noted was open after all this time, letting a chilly night breeze in). 

Jungkook must’ve felt the breeze too because he began to shiver, and the pure white wings on his back curled in even more. In your shocked stupor, you shuffle to the window and shut it, dropping the blinds right after in case any of your neighbors planned to be peeping toms tonight. Then you move forward, your hand hovering over the wing closest to the window. “Can I… is it okay if I…?” You ask. You lift your gaze from the silky, shining feathers warm under your hand to the boy looking vulnerable before you, his arms wrapped around his chest as if to shield himself from your curious eyes, and you actually start to feel bad for asking him to expose himself like this. He’d been telling the truth (obviously), and maybe it was the alcohol still in your veins or just the sheer  _exhaustion_  you felt, but you found yourself very willing to accept this with the feathers glistening in the lamp light before you. Like of course there was an ethereal dude standing in the middle of your bedroom with wings sprouting out of his back, claiming to be your guardian angel... but this would make you feel a bit better than finding out you have a stalker, at least.

“Go ahead. Just... be gentle. No one’s ever touched them before.” Jungkook tells you, watching your hovering hand intensely. You nod minutely, letting your fingertips graze over the top of the wing, and you hear Jungkook suck in air through his teeth, so you peel back immediately. “Did I hurt you?” You ask, your eyes wide with regret.

“No, no! It just feels… different.” Jungkook admits with a wavering voice, his eyes catching yours just to flit away. You watch as he shivers again, and you decide then and there that he’s suffered quite enough tonight, what with having to save your ass from jumping into a river and then being threatened by you with a candle. Even though you ended up being not that much of a threat, he still seemed hurt that your first instinct upon meeting him was fear. 

You brush your tips over his wing once more and attempt to be even more gentle, your heart hammering in your chest as you register that the feeling against your fingers is all too real for your drunken mind to make up. You softly pull away. “You can put them away now. I… I think I believe you.” Jungkook glances at you before his body tenses, and you watch with mild horror as the beautiful wings twist and contort and shrink back into his skin until all you can see is his broad back and two very even slits from where the wings extended from, sealed up like old scars.

Jungkook retrieves his shirt and jacket immediately, grateful to have some warmth again, before turning to you, “Like I stated before, showing myself to you, let alone interfering with your fate, wasn't a great idea. I’m most likely in a lot of trouble, and I doubt you’ll be left with the memory of me in the morning.” Jungkook sighs, sounding regretful, and you gnaw on your lip as he shuffles back over to Mook, his hand ghosting over her belly once more before he pulls away completely.

“I was supposed to die tonight, right?” You ask him, the curiosity getting the better of you. The thought is a testament to your gradual sobering up, if not the conflicted look in your eyes. He had said that he had interfered with fate, so you could only conclude that had he not been there to stick his neck out for you, you really would have been gone for good. There would have been no random change of mind or a kind bystander to try and swoop in to save you; you would have really died. Before, only an hour ago, you would have wanted just that. Yet, now? That kind of end felt… nauseating.

“…Yes, but that wasn’t what I was referring to. I interfered with your fate not that long ago… the first time you tried to take your life was supposed to be the last.” Memories of where you had been a few weeks prior flash in your mind: memories of those blinding headlights and honking horns permeate your senses like a few weeks ago had been only seconds ago. You grimace, looking at him with hot cheeks, “Why did you stop me, then? If it was my time to go, and you were going to get your ass handed to you for it… why’d you even bother?”

Jungkook, for the first time that night, looks you in the eye with a determination so unwavering that you’re speechless. He runs a hand through his hair and you catch a glimpse of his forehead covered in a thin sheen of sweat, but you knew it wasn't from the temperature in here. Letting out a shaky sigh, Jungkook breathes out with poorly masked difficulty, “Because... I couldn’t bear to be in a world that you weren't in.” 

You were diffidence personified, mainly due to the very,  _very_  loving look Jungkook was giving you, though you were fairly certain that it was completely innocent. A God-like love, pure of fleshly intentions. The intensity of the look was so strong that you thought that maybe you wouldn’t mind if he was looking at you like that all the time.

“Oh. That’s… a predicament.” You’re so perplexed by the situation that you don’t recognize how insensitive you might sound at first and, as soon as you do, Jungkook’s expression falls... the guilt is instantaneous. After all, he'd basically said he put his life on the line because you mattered more to him than his own life. 

Huffing out a breath of awkward air, you turn to him fully, “Does this mean you can’t go back to heaven?”

“I haven’t exactly tried. Spending even a second away from you could open you up to harm, death, or demon possession. If I  _must_  be called back to heaven, a temporary angel will be sent to guard you until I come back… if I come back.” The severity of the situation only now seems to hit Jungkook as he drops onto the side of your bed, the weight of the boy so heavy that it sends Mook a few inches into the air before she’s scrambling off the bed in irritation. Jungkook watches her black tail swirl and sashay out of the room, as if giving him the cat’s version of the middle finger. 

“I’m sure God is a bit more forgiving though, right? He wouldn’t just smite you on the spot for saving me.” You chuckle, finding the idea ridiculous until Jungkook raises his eyes to you with a stern expression. Just looking at him that serious shuts you up right away. “Okay... so… maybe he would. But you said you’ve saved me before, so if he was going to, he would’ve done it already, right?” You reason, though Jungkook continues to look grim.

“There are... rules and guidelines for angels in heaven. The very first rule tells about the Almighty’s gracious three warnings. Each angel gets one warning for each sin they commit, and once all three are used up, that angel is damned from heaven to live as a human for however long they would in their mortal body, exempt of all angelic power they once possessed. There is no repenting or finding salvation after that. That angel is now destined for hell, and a fallen angel in hell is rare and oh so precious to Lucifer. Those fallen angels receive an eternity of suffering far worse than any human’s.” You weren’t super religious, but you had heard stories from the Bible. They were always tales of God being forgiving towards his creations, and you only assumed he’d be the same with angels too. An eternity of suffering far worse than a human’s? You failed to fathom it.

“Well, it wouldn’t hurt to stay visible for much longer, would it? I mean, I already know you’re there, and I’d like to be sure you aren’t standing in the corner of the bathroom when I shower.” At the mention of your request, Jungkook’s cheeks are set ablaze, “I don’t-! I do not… I have never-” “Calm down,” you quickly attempt to satiate the very bashful angel, trying and failing to cover your snickers, “I know you wouldn’t do something like that.”

“How? You just found out I exist an hour ago. Usually your kind is more skeptical than this.” His question unexpectedly stuns you into thinking, and no matter how many times you try to dig up a good reason, you can’t find one. Why do you trust him so easily? Like he’s been here, in the back of your mind, this whole time? Why do you so readily accept that he has your best interests in mind? Why does it feel… right? The night has clearly taken a toll on you and so you don't even bother to find a logic to it. The first thing you feel seems alright enough of an answer for now, anyway.

“...There’s just something about you, Jungkook."


	2. ii. hard day's work

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> you look for a new job. you also meet a handsome bar owner named min yoongi.

The next morning, you wake up warm and alone.

You’re momentarily reeling as you thrust yourself awake, the covers that were neatly tucked around your shoulders falling away into your lap. Everything seems as it should be at first, almost like last night was just a bad fever dream and a really roundabout way of telling you to get your shit together. And, also, to never drink again.

There's an ache that begins to pound at your skull to remind you just why you should never drink again, too. That, combined with the surreality of the events that may or may not have taken place the night before, makes you keen to write it all off as your depressed thoughts finally taking up space in your dreams. You’d believe that was all true as well... if only you didn’t take notice of the singular white feather on your floor by the window, still as delicate and unreal as when you had seen them the first time. They seem to glitter in the sunlight from your window, and when you realize how high the sun is in the sky, you panic.

Throwing yourself out of bed, you rush forward toward your closet, trying to find a semi-decent shirt and pair of pressed pants for work. You take one look in the mirror in the bathroom and grimace, knowing you haven’t got much time to primp and prime yourself to your usual standards. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.” You whisper under your breath, tossing your outfit for the day on the bed and stripping yourself of all your clothes on the way to the en suite, before you take a step into the shower for a brisk wash. The sudden cold water that splashes down on your skin is freezing but sobering, and through the little grunts that pass through your lips as you turn to let the water curve around every inch of your body, your mind becomes clear. So clear in fact, that the hastiness to get ready dissipates into thin air at once because _Oh, that’s right, you don’t have a job anymore._

The reminder hits you hard, your shoulders falling limp and your heart clenching uselessly as you recall the events from yesterday morning, all the way up to… Jungkook. And he’s not where you left him.

Technically, you hadn't _left_ him _anywhere_. From what your graciously hard-working mind could remind you of, once you had told Jungkook how you felt, he had insisted you get some rest. He had promised that he’d be right there when you woke up, most likely to make sure you didn't choke on your own vomit in your sleep. You had fought off the need to sleep at first, climbing reluctantly under the covers and twisting your mouth this way and that as Jungkook fussed over you. He had tucked you in, brushed your hair out of your face, and even took the liberty of untying your shoes for you. As soon as Jungkook’s lips pressed to your temple (much to your immediate surprise), you had fallen into a deep slumber at once. He had most definitely done that on purpose, and though you were thankful, you were albeit a little annoyed he'd forced you to sleep after that information overload. You hadn't had enough time to process any of it and so it had to come back to you late like this, now warm water beginning to create a cloud in your bathroom. You'd give him this though: you hadn’t had such restful sleep in years.

Deciding that, hey, you’re already halfway there, you relax under the water and indulge yourself in a slightly longer shower than previously planned, all thanks to your swarming thoughts.  _What’s the next step? What exactly do I do now? What do I do about Jungkook? What_ can _I do about Jungkook?_

You frown and find yourself drying off fourteen minutes later, toweling off your body awkwardly. You quickly slip into some jeans and a decent enough shirt before taking a quick analysis of your bedroom. After popping two Tylenol, the sunlight annoys you much less than it did the moment you'd woken up, but it still draws you over the the curtains to shut them. The amount of light they mask is minimal, but enough to soften the strain on your hurting eyes.

Your room looks a little strange. Your bed sheets are half on, half off (due to your peaceful sleep, of course), the candle you'd wielded against Jungkook for all of half a minute still sat on the floor on its side, and what was left of your messy room from the morning before still remained. Papers laid about your desk, mainly work that you'd yet to complete in time for their deadlines, a sure contributor to why you'd lost your job. You know you'll have to bring those things back some time soon, but in spite, you'll take your sweet time. 

The only neat thing about the room is your shoes tucked carefully at the foot of the bed. You know you were far too frazzled last night to do that, so the only culprit happens to be the guardian angel that resides... somewhere in the house at the moment. Your lovely little neighborhood didn't get much action, so surely you'd be able to hear another person moving about in your house at this time, right?

 _Unless God really had struck him dead while you slept_.

Afraid you'll come across a body in your home later rather than sooner, you rush out of your bedroom and begin to look frantically into each room. First, the guest bedroom where a foreign cardigan still lays across the bed, then the hallway bathroom, then you're heading down the stairs. From your spot at the end of the steps, you can see the living room and then right into the kitchen, and the sight you behold forces you to take a minute to digest it.

The sofa has a soft pink sheet thrown across it haphazardly, one of the throw pillows pushed up against the arm of the couch. Like your shoes upstairs, Jungkook’s bulky outdoor boots are tucked neatly next to the couch. His jacket hangs on the other arm of the couch, folded. The entirety of his belongings are within the span of that couch, from side table to side table. He’d obviously excused himself from your room to give you privacy, and you were pretty pleased he had. You didn't usually like waking up to strangers, after all. 

The angel you'd been so prepared to bludgeon to death with a candle stood at the stove with a pan in hand while your lovely cat balanced herself atop his broad shoulders, tail curling around the side of his head affectionately. Jungkook is standing at the stove with a pan and a small puddle of yellowed slop trailing along the counter. He’s got something cooking in the pan, but you don’t see what until he steps back and thrusts the pan upwards, a golden, blob shaped food being flipped mid air before landing awkwardly back in the pan. Ah, pancakes. How did he even know how to make those?

“Do angels eat?” You ask suddenly.

You half-expect Jungkook to jump out of his skin, but he just shrugs his shoulders as if you'd announced yourself minutes ago, “We don’t have to, but we can. This is for you.” After a few moments, he takes your baby blue spatula and slides the pancake onto a plate previously out of sight atop two other perfectly cooked pancakes. Your mouth waters at the sight, just as he cuts a slice of butter on top, and then your stomach is growling against your will.

To keep yourself from jumping Jungkook for the very welcomed food, you decide to ask him a question, “When you say… anything-” “We can digest metal, glass, any and all poisons… take your pick. We can’t merely be killed by what kills mortals. We’d be useless if that was the case. Now come on, eat.” You don't argue or blink an eye at his lightly demanding tone and instead do as you're told, taking the plate of pancakes from him and moving toward the dining table with him and Mook in tow. You’re mildly impressed by the glass of orange juice and bottle of syrup already there, waiting for you, and you glance back at Jungkook who begins to smile, looking slightly smug. 

“Why’d you make me breakfast?” You ask after you take a forkful as your first bite, almost  _moaning_  it’s so good.

Jungkook notices your blissful expression with bashful eyes and takes the seat beside you, resting his elbows on the table as he watches you eat, “Well, I wasn't called to heaven like I thought, and seeing as you still remember me, I thought I could get away with at least making you something to eat. You don’t take very good care of eating regularly. Plus… I couldn’t sleep.” “Can you?” You ask, just because you’re genuinely curious. And hey, wouldn’t _you_ ask your guardian angel stuff like this too, if you could? 

Jungkook narrows his eyes a bit in thought, thinking carefully about what to tell you, “I… guess? It’s not like how humans sleep, of course. We can sleep _technically_ , but it’s just not the same. To put it simply, we’re awake but we’re still resting, unlike you. When you sleep, you’re unaware of everything. Since it’s not necessary for us to sleep, we don’t completely shut off like humans do, so we sense everything… Guardian angels are most sensitive to their humans, though.”

You blink at his use of the term “their humans". Did all angels usually refer to the people they guarded as theirs? “How sensitive?” 

Jungkook looks at you for a moment before his gaze goes elsewhere, “We… we feel everything. We feel your emotions, we feel your presence. If you’re close, we know. If you’re far, we  _know_... Not that any good guardian angel will let their human get very far, but you get the gist. That’s why I don’t have to be in the same room as you to know if you’re okay, that’s why I don’t have to watch you every minute to be sure you’re safe. I can feel what you feel, and I know. In a sense, I could be halfway across the world and I’d know if you’d eaten breakfast or not. Our bond is just that strong and unbreakable.”

There’s something in Jungkook’s voice, a certain  _finality_  that catches your attention. He’s not even really paying you attention, too focused on the vase of fake flowers in the middle of your dining room table, his fingers playing with the plastic leaves. He looks somewhat deep in thought and doesn’t notice you haven’t replied yet, fascinated with something that you can’t quite place. Was he thinking about what he’d said? Was there something important that he wasn’t mentioning? 

“Wow… that’s… intense.” You barely muster, poking the last pieces of pancake on your plate. Jungkook hums in response, though he’s finally stopped fondling your fake sunflowers. 

The silence passes slowly in a heavy ten minutes, and you find yourself scarfing every last bit of food you can down your throat just so you can rid yourself of the awkward situation once and for all. Jungkook won’t even pretend to eat the leftover pancakes he made to make it less weird but, then again, you’re probably the only one feeling uncomfortable. He’s had his eyes on you or the decor or the pancakes the entire time, seemingly content, and you’re thinking  _hey, let’s give the kid a break, he’s used to being invisible,_  but you still can’t get comfortable with it.

Finally, you’re shoving yourself up from the table with such a need to break the tension and Jungkook widens his eyes in surprise, unprepared. Without thinking, he reaches for your knee, and you draw back at lightning speed, “What are… what are you doing?”

Jungkook blinks, frozen, with his hand hovering where your knee once was. Then, in a voice so innocent you blank, “I was making sure you didn’t hurt yourself. You just... jumped up really fast.” He retreats his hand, keeping his eyes locked on yours like one would a scared animal. He shows the palms of his hands and then rests them in his lap to fold them, dropping your gaze when he sees the embarrassed look on your face. 

“Right... okay, well, I have to go. I've got no income, so I might as well make myself useful and go look for a job.” You inform him, too flustered to look him in the eye.

Jungkook just nods and watches you depart from the table with your plate and empty glass discarded, leaving to go back upstairs. Amongst the mess of files littering your desk, you find a dusty copy of your resume tucked between a few tax statements you'd yet to file away properly. It gleams at you, mocking you, having not been edited since you'd applied for your old job so long ago. You could still remember the day you'd walked into the office, hoping that whatever luck your ancestors had forgotten to grant you would finally come together and grace you with this one good thing. It had worked, but only for so long. 

Sighing forlornly, you toss it to the side and open your laptop to find the file. You edit your work experience section with a sorrowful heart, wanting so badly to hope that your job wasn't really gone, that it wasn't really in the hands of Kim Yongsun now. You had remembered going out for drinks with her the weekend you'd both gotten calls back with guaranteed positions starting the following weekday, your young lives feeling so full at the time. Yongsun had been your closest friend since college, closer than even your ex, and it hurt to think that she was now sitting where you'd worked your ass off to be. You weren't sure if she had contacted you since the news had broke. In fact, you weren't totally sure you even cared if she did.

(You did. You just didn't want to admit it.)

You hadn't touched your phone since last night, the device probably somewhere dead in your coat pocket (if you'd managed to return it there after you'd called your cab). You'd grown weary looking at your social media since the breakup, and now you just didn't see the point. If any of your work friends had contacted you with condolences, you were sure you'd burst into tears.

Copies of your new resume are freshly printed underneath your now blazer-covered arm. Making your way down the stairs, you find a fully dressed Jungkook waiting for you by the front door, Mook doing something to the laces of his boots unsuccessfully. You're about to ask him where he thinks he's going before he hands you your work bag, "We'll have to pick up your car first, you know? At the bar."

You had completely forgotten that it was still at the bar where you'd left it, too afraid to drive it to the bridge on your own in fear that you might end up ruining more than just your own life that night. Hopefully, it wasn't broken into by now, but the cab fare to get you to the bar would be horrendous and you needed very penny you could keep. With that in mind, you dig through your wallet and find that you've still got some money left over for a bus ride. To save even more, you look back up at Jungkook, "Are you invisible to others?"

The angel nods, "When I want to be. I can pick and choose."

You grin and pat his arm, "Good. Make sure no one sees you get on the bus with me."

* * *

By the time you get to the heart of the city, you're caught up in the hustle and bustle of metropolitan life like it's second nature to you.

It's busy, swarmed with people from the minute you get on the bus to the minute you get off, so Jungkook is able to hide himself among the passengers until it's time to take a seat with you. You can't help but notice that almost everyone can't stop looking at him even as he stares ahead nonchalantly, glancing out of the window beside him every once in a while to watch the city go by. As your guardian angel, he'd surely seen everything, so why did he looks so entranced by the trivial ride into the city? He'd most likely seen it dozens of time by your side on your commute to work everyday. Still, watching him people watch was kind of calming. Every once in a while, a smile would grace his face and he'd wave a little outside the window. "Who're you waving to?"

Jungkook smiles over at you, "My friends. The other guardians, of course."

Your mouth forms a small "o". You'd completely ignored the fact that you weren't the only one on this bus with an angel, and he had probably greeted at least a few of them subtly since you'd gotten on the bus. After all, the only one who could see them was him. It's also pretty cute to see him so happy about his "friends". "Are they curious as to why you're visible?" You ask him, looking around with a renewed sense of that there are twice as many people as you can see on this ride watching you right now. 

"So long as they don't know you know who I really am. It's not uncommon for us to show ourselves every once in a while, so long as our charge remains oblivious." He says in a much lower voice.

You fiddle with your fingers in front of you as the ride goes on, letting yourself get swept up in the other people on the ride rather than Jungkook as to not out him to the other angels in the vicinity. He had talked a good deal about what might happen to him for saving you and revealing himself to you last night, and you really didn't want to get him in trouble if you could help it. After all, he'd mentioned your memories being wiped and... you didn't really want that.

Because it’s so busy today, you’re suddenly worried you might lose Jungkook in the crowd once you get off the bus (but really, how can you lose a giant like him?), and without thinking, you reach behind you and grab Jungkook’s hand to guide him. Jungkook jolts when your fingers grab onto his rather roughly, as he looks down at you with furrowed brows, “Why’d you grab my hand?” 

“You’re walking really slow… I’m not trying to lose track of you.” You murmur, tugging him hard as he continues his leisurely walk. Sure, it's a Saturday, but why are there so many people out on the street today?

Then, you hear it. Above the bustling and the loud voices, you hear a laugh. 

It’s Jungkook’s and it’s, for lack of a better word, heavenly. So heavenly in fact, that you stumble to a stop in the middle of the sidewalk much to some old man's disdain. 

It sounds… comforting. Something warm, like you’re wrapped in a blanket with a mug of something hot, sat right in front of the fireplace and soaking up all the good feelings through the heat. It reminds you of the few wonderful childhood memories you’ve had, of the few happy moments you’ve experienced that haven’t become painful to recall by now. It’s pretty cheesy to say someone’s laugh can remind you of all those things at once, but you can’t help it, it’s _true_. 

You look at Jungkook and he’s still lightly chuckling under his breath, hand firmly clutched in yours. Even the sight of his eyes crinkling and his teeth (they remind you of a bunny’s, and it’s… really endearing) on display in a delighted smile makes your nerves halt for a while. You’d almost made the mistake of thinking you both were stuck in time until his smile turns into a concerned frown, and he squeezes the hand he’s holding to get your attention, “What’s wrong?” He asks, tugging you closer, and had you not been so hyper-aware of him, you might not have noticed. 

“Why were you… why’d you laugh?” 

His eyes widen (somehow bigger than they usually were), and motions to the crowd surrounding you, “It’s just,” he pauses to find the right words, “I’m your guardian angel, you couldn’t lose me even if you tried.” He sounds confident, an occasional contrast to the stumbling, timid Jungkook you had been introduced to. 

You’re suddenly flustered at forgetting, and you begin to walk again, a little faster in hopes he’d follow suit. You didn’t have all day, anyway. “Well, I still don’t want you to get knocked over by all these people. You’re tall, you fall hard.”  _Nice save_ , you sarcastically congratulate yourself. 

Again, Jungkook is amused, and without a second thought, he thrusts himself right in front of a busy looking woman balancing two drink cartridges of four coffees each, a phone tucked between her ear and shoulder. She's not paying any attention to where she's going and you can already see the wipeout before it happens. Yet, no matter how desperately you tug at Jungkook’s hand, he doesn't budge. He’s barreling right for her.

Then, before they can collide, Jungkook’s entire being shimmers, and the woman walks right through him.

You watch in disbelief, your jaw dropping open as Jungkook’s form solidifies again and he looks at you. The little shit even has the audacity to look smug. “I choose who can and cannot see me, remember?” “…let’s just go, smart ass.”

You’re so embarrassed that you don’t even feel Jungkook’s fingers tightening around yours.

* * *

 

After stopping at a few stores on your way to pass out your resume, you find the bar where you'd parked and sigh with relief when your car looks relatively unharmed. 

You unlock the doors and look inside, finding your work shoes from yesterday on the floor of the passenger side along with the blazer you'd worn the day before. Sighing, you shut the door again and lock it before turning to Jungkook who stands nearby with his hands shoved into his pockets. "Looks all good." You say, checking around the sides for any marks or scuffs that you know weren't there before. "We can drive to the next place I know that's hiring. It's near work, so it's not out of my way."

Jungkook nods stiffly. Come to think of it, he's looked pretty stiff ever since you pointed out the bar. He looks around warily, constantly eyeing people as they walk past, and you blink at him, "Jungkook," you start, catching his attention, "why do you look so spooked?"

The angel looks between you and the doors to the bar and you follow suit.

From the outside, the windows are tinted heavily, probably giving the illusion to a drunk inside that it's still night time and to keep partying it up. It also means that from the outside, you can’t see the very intoxicated (but still very dangerous) fist fight going on in the middle of the bar that Jungkook can. "It's just a shady place I'd rather not be in again... come on, we should go, it'll be getting late soon."

You don't get the same vibe that Jungkook does, far from it in fact. Last night, this place had been your safe haven. Even though it wasn't the biggest or fanciest bar in town, it surely did the trick for what you'd needed. From what you could remember, it didn't look too shabby inside either... you'd be damned if you missed even the smallest opportunity. You had a mortgage to pay after all.

You return your gaze back to Jungkook, "Actually, I think I'll go in and drop off my resume. I still have a few copies left. Might as well make the tree I killed proud." You hold up the resumes with a small smile, moving to enter, when Jungkook touches your arm with an urgency. Surprised, you look back at the angel whose eyebrows are knitted together with anxiety beginning to roll off him in waves. He looks like he wants to tug you in the opposite direction of the bar, far, far away from it even. You don't know what he can feel that you can't, but you're almost inclined to roll with it. Almost. "Jungkook, it's fine. if it's that spooky, you don't have to go in. In fact, why don't you stand right outside here and keep an eye on me with your angelic power or whatever, alright? I'll be in and out in a minute."

Your angel- _the_ angel gives you a weighted look. Then, with what looks like a great deal of self-control, releases your arm. What you can't see is how badly he wants to change your mind, but he's already skating on thin ice. If he keeps trying to interfere with your life, he could count himself among the fallen just like that. He was lucky he already wasn't. "...Okay. If you see anything spelling trouble, turn tail and run."

You promise him with a sober nod of your head, making sure he's really okay with it before making your way to the front door. You barely remember much from the moment you walked into the bar to the moment that you left, but you do remember this smell. It smells like bar food and really good alcohol, though your throbbing head protests the good feelings both usually bring. Instead, you decide to just enter already. Immediately, you regret your decision to ignore Jungkook's concern.

Before you are two men swinging at each other amongst the very limited amount of patrons, knocking into chairs and tables and swinging this way and that, thankfully never nearing close enough to actually hit _you_. However, they look absolutely livid, and you're not sure that anything can stop two drunk men in broad daylight from breaking up a fight unless it's a police baton to the back of the head. You look around and find that one of the waiters in the bar is stood up against the wall with arms crossed and an amused expression on his face, looking nowhere near trying to deescalate the fight or to even call the authorities to break it up. Jungkook had told you to turn tail and run if you saw anything spelling trouble, and this seemed to be just it. You’re just about to duck back out of the bar too, when you hear a loud wolf-whistle ring throughout the room, stopping you dead in your tracks.

A man, looking as unbothered as ever, is whistling at the two men in the midst of their fight. The whistle is piercing enough to catch both drunks’ attention (and irritate your dull headache all the more), as they turn to look at the man a few inches shorter than the pair of them. The man who is now the center of the bar's attention looks like he shouldn’t be getting mixed up in this kind of thing at all, especially with how much smaller he is compared to the other two guys, but you can’t find any traces of worry on his face from where you’re standing just ten feet away. 

“I thought you assholes knew my policy.” The man deadpans, looking between the two confused drunks with an upturned lip. It feels obvious that the shorter guy has picked the wrong fight when both guys turn instantly offensive against him instead of each other, bucking up against the intruding bystander. You wonder if maybe you’ll witness a murder today. It wouldn't be the most surprising thing you'd witnessed in the last 24 hours.

“What are you gonna do about it,  _Sugar_? It’s you against us.” One of the tall men (who you note has a very questionable bowl cut), speaks up first. The short man’s eyes narrow at the strange nickname and straightens his back as if it’ll make him appear tougher towards the towering drunks. It’s clear who will win here, and now you’re starting to panic. You know Jungkook can feel your emotions too, but the last thing you want him to do is intervene. You hope you pass it off as a little anxiety and try to calm your nerves, thinking of a way to help the poor guy before he gets his ass kicked. You couldn’t jump in as you weren’t much of a fighter yourself. Sure, you could realistically hold your own for a good five minutes or so before you went down, but you’d at least be going down swinging. However, in this situation, you couldn’t fathom yourself going down  _alive_.

You’re seconds from grabbing your phone and dialing the police, ready to report a man getting beat to death in a bar, when the short man surprises you. He sends a strong uppercut to the first man's jaw, then grabs him by that ugly haircut of his and knocks his forehead against the other man's before either of them can react. You watch in shock as the two men thud to the ground lumberingly, unconscious and slumped over one another like mere rag dolls. The short man doesn’t even look like he put a lot of work into his move, simply shaking his hands out and giving his knuckles a glance over. 

Then, the man hops up and over the counter with seasoned finesse, wiping his hands on his black apron as he does. “Namjoon! Hoseok! Two more.” The man announces loudly, and you take a quick glance around to see that most of the patrons don’t look worried or bothered that any of this is happening. They’re all drinking and eating as if this is a common occurrence. You’re sincerely regretting coming in here for sure. 

“’nother two? That’s five today, Suga.” The voice that answers comes from somewhere unseen, noticeably dropping the "r" at the end of "Sugar". Moments later, two men walk in from the door behind the counter, using the waist-high swinging door that sections the bar off from the rest of the room to get to the two drunks, rather than using “Suga”’s way of sliding over counters like James Bond. One of the men, with bleach blond hair and showing dark roots, comes striding out first to examine the two guys on the ground before he grabs one and lifts him easily over his shoulder. The other guy grabs the remaining drunk on the floor, about to turn tail and follow the first guy back through where they came, when he catches your eye. “Oh! Hey, you need a table?”

The guy smiles widely, almost blindingly cheerful as he shifts the man on his shoulder like he’s nothing but a sack of potatoes. You barely register that he’s talking to you before you’re sputtering out, “N-no, thank you… I think I’ll just be going-” “You, come here.” Another voice commands you, and both you and the guy turn your attention toward Suga, who’s cleaning out the inside of a shot glass, his attention solely on you. Those dark, narrowed eyes narrow even further the longer it takes for you to heed his simple command. 

“Really, I should be going. This… I changed my mind.” You say, trying to sound stern, and jab your thumb toward the door from where you came. Suga, looking contemplative, nods his head low, and you follow his gaze to the resume gripped tightly in your sweating palm. It’s too late to hide it now, he’s seen it. 

“We need new waitstaff, actually.” He grumbles, tucking the dried shot glass onto a stack of similar ones, making them clink sharply. You’re amazed he can see so far, or maybe he’s just seen a lot of people like you, walking in with the same set of papers and the same naive look on their face before they realize what kind of place they’ve walked into. 

“But-” “Sit.” He motions to a bar stool, and you turn desperately toward the guy with the cheerful smile for help, only to find he’s already followed after his friend. You don’t want to know what they’re going to do with those drunks, you just hope it's legal. 

Fighting every instinct in you not to, you walk over to the bar and sit down in a stool, looking more and more nervous as Suga stares you down. As you slide your resume across the bar, you notice that even though this is the type of place that gets rowdy drunks on the regular (it’s only noon, too), the place is impeccably clean. 

Suga is still staring at you, but he takes the resume and when his attention is off you, you begin to look around, twiddling your fingers nervously. You don’t know how long it’ll take for him to look it over, and you’re not sure if he’ll even consider hiring you, seeing as you’ve never had any experience with bars before, but it seems that your experience doesn’t interest him at all as he tosses the resume back onto the bar with a decisive slap. You jump and blink, looking up at Suga, to find his dark stare growing even stronger. Seriously, how was this guy even getting costumers with that kind of look on his face?

Maybe, it’s because once you look past the hard stare, he actually looks… pretty charming.

“Why do you want to work here?” Suga asks, his eyebrows raised as he watches you. 

“To be quite honest sir, I don’t want to anymore.” You mutter, watching as his shoulders rise and drop quickly, and it takes you a moment to register that he had just chuckled. In a way. 

“You get used to the fights. You even learn how to break them up. It’s great training.” 

“For what, gang activity?” You retort with a scoff before you can catch yourself. 

You think you might have offended him, but Suga just outright smiles at you, something you’re suddenly speechless at seeing. His smile is the opposite of what you’d expect it to be: wide and gummy and warm. You think your heart stutters a little at it. “Hey, everybody’s got different dream jobs. I won’t judge you if that’s yours.” 

After flashing his smile, Suga has somehow changed the atmosphere completely. You can feel the tension seep out of your body the longer said smile stays on his face. It’s not wide and open anymore, but it is a small, comforting smile, and it’s enough to loosen you up for what you say next. “Well, as you can see, I don’t have much experience in places like this... but honestly, I’m willing to learn. I’d be early everyday, I’d make a good waitstaff, and I’m not as clumsy as I look.” “With that last bit alone, you’re already eons safer than Namjoon.” 

You furrow your eyebrows at the name, recalling the two boys from before, when you see something small fly across the room and hit Suga smack dab on the nose. It falls onto the wooden surface separating you both soon after, and you recognize it as a curly fry. “I don’t break nearly as many dishes as Hoseok does washing in the back!”

Namjoon, the offended waiter who turns out to be the tall bleach blond from before, has already began serving again as if he didn't just assault the bartender. Holding an empty tray under one arm and a few menus in his hand, he shoots you a polite smile and sneaks back through the door behind the bar, presumably into the kitchen, while Suga sighs and wipes his nose of the greasy oil from the fry. “…As you can see, it’s a comfy environment. We’re all friends here. The fights do happen, I won’t lie to you, doll,” Your eyes widen at the nickname. He doesn’t notice (or doesn't care), “but either I or the others here will take care of it. You’ll warm up just fine.” 

“I still don’t know if I even wanna work here, though.” You remind him, watching as Suga nods to a new guest in the bar and pours the man his drink, all the while deliberating on what he says next to you, “I won’t force you. But I highly doubt any other place in the district will take you at this point. I took one look at your resume and you’ve got almost zero experience except at that stuffy office uptown, plus, no references from any past employers about how reliable you are.” “Then why would you?” You frown, feeling flustered.

You already felt pretty sore from yesterday, and of course, none of these things were new to you. You  _knew_ , but you still clung to that stupid little shred of hope. That piece of positivity that was dangling right before you- “You’ve got two hands and a friendly face. That’s all you really need in a shit hole like this. But if you’re not interested, I understand.” 

He shrugs, finishing off the man’s drink and walking back over to you with his arms crossed over his chest. The dim light of the bar casts a flattering glow on Suga’s face, showing off the sharp outlines of his jaw and the dips of his cheekbones as he steels his expression into one of nonchalance. 

He was right, You didn’t have a lot of choices, and he was practically handing you the job on a silver platter. You’d be a fool to turn it down. After all, you were a lot of things, but you (liked to think you) were no fool. 

Swallowing around the anxious feeling in your throat, you nodded, “When can I start?”

Had you focused harder, you would have noticed the dark glint of red that flashed across Suga’s eyes before he held out his hand to you with a smirk, “I'm Min Yoongi, the owner of this aforementioned shit hole, but you can call me Suga if you like. You start Monday. Be here at 7 a.m. sharp, don’t be late.”


	3. iii. god's messengers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> jungkook is visited by angel, you're visited by a demon, and things just keep getting worse.

Jungkook, for the most part, hated being away from you.

He was your guardian angel after all, and he was accommodated to a life where he could watch over you and not worry about you being in any kind of supernatural danger, but things had been... complicated, since he had shown himself to you.

Part of his abilities had felt taken away from him. His wings had been sensitive to the touch, his strength weakened, and most importantly, his senses dulled. While he could very well tell you were inside the bar and unharmed so far, he could barely grasp your emotions just standing outside. He had noticed his senses weakening even more by the minute, and it only made him that much more reluctant to take his eyes off you. He had half a mind to pull the door open and yank you back out before something went wrong. But, thankfully for you (or, maybe not, in the end), the other half of his mind urged him to trust that you’d be alright and to listen to your demands. He’d do that for you, he’d do  _anything_  for you.

The last twenty-four or so hours had been a mess of emotions for you, of course, but even more so for Jungkook. He’d only shown himself to you last night, and it had been a roller coaster ride for him as he attempted to adjust to a life where he existed to you, where he could speak to you and you him. With this came emotions he wasn’t completely used to. They were... new, and vivid, and always connected to you as per usual.

When he had seen you standing in front of the car, he felt your apathy, your willingness to die, and his chest  _ached_. Knowing you were content leaving the world had broken something integral inside him, and at the same time awoken something deeper, more instinctual. He was sure the Almighty had never planned for him to be this way (or maybe he did and was watching in righteous cruelty as fate unfurled), but every guardian angel had an instinctual nature to protect those who could not protect themselves, and that went double for the humans they were appointed to. Jungkook would literally go through hellfire for you, would tear the world apart just to save you... and it scared him to think that he may not have the ability to anymore. 

Clearing his throat to remove the melancholic thoughts, Jungkook pressed his back against the wall of the bar and inhaled, then exhaled, and surveyed the streets. The city was starting to come alive, so more people were out. He saw tighter, shorter clothes, darker gazes, warmer giggles, life pulsing through every human body that passed him. He even saw another angel.

Granted, he had not registered it was an angel he had seen before until said angel had tugged him around the corner and down a dark alley, shoving him up against the cold brick so harshly his head snapped back and collided with the hard wall. Before, a hit like that wouldn’t even faze him, but Jungkook noted unpleasantly that his skull throbbed.  _Weird_.

“Do you know how fucking hard it is to track you down, punk?” He hears a familiar, angry, higher pitched voice growl at him, and when Jungkook looks down at his captor, he almost smiles sheepishly in recognition. 

“J-Jimin... long time, no see.”

Jimin didn’t look any different than he had in heaven. He still had the same weightless blond hair, dark eyes that shined a little mischievously, and barely came up to Jungkook's nose in height. Jimin was a lot stronger this time around, though Jungkook chalked that up to himself feeling weaker due to unfortunate events. Still, the grip Jimin had on Jungkook’s arms had him wincing.  

“I really ought to give you a piece of my mind... but I’m just glad you’re safe.” Jimin regards with a slightly softer tone of voice, and his grip loosens just enough for Jungkook to lose the tension in his shoulders a bit.

Yet, just as quickly as he had calmed, he remembered how far away from you he was, and began to squirm in the older angel’s hold, “Wait, take me back, they're-” “They're  _fine_ , kid. I can feel it.” Jimin cuts in, but Jungkook doesn’t stop looking distressed. Jimin’s almost sure Jungkook can break out of his hold with how determined he is to get back to you, so he tries to diffuse the situation as quickly as possible, “I promise they're okay, okay? I brought you over here because it’s safer for the humans if we stay out of their way. Including your charge.” 

At this, Jungkook stills, his eyes narrowing as he takes in his old friend’s grim expression. “What is it?”

Jimin swallows, looking visibly nervous, and Jungkook starts to feel nervous as well, unable to ignore the impending feeling of doom looming over his head, “I thought you might overreact once I broke the news to you, so I think it’s best if we stay right here.” 

“Why?” Jungkook raises his voice slightly, the exasperation in his voice warning Jimin to reach his point and quick. Jimin, for good measure, pulls Jungkook that much deeper into the alley, his own hands beginning to sweat as they hesitantly release Jungkook altogether.

When the younger angel furrows his brows in question, Jimin sighs, “No one was gonna tell you but I thought you deserved to know. Since you’re fallen now,” Jimin winces as he admits this, tearing his eyes from Jungkook to collect his thoughts, “s-since you’re fallen now, you are not worthy of being called (Name)’s guardian angel anymore.”

“Fallen? What are you talking about?” Jungkook laughs in disbelief, and though he tries to find the humor in Jimin’s (albeit, cruel) joke, he has an inkling that it isn’t one at all. The silence between them after is so thick that Jungkook feels it wrapping around his throat and choking him, and when the reality of what Jimin is telling him hits him, he gasps out, “What about my three warnings? I get three warnings! I can’t be fallen yet, I’ve only messed up twice-” “Your third sin... you’re not even aware of it?” Jimin frowns, watching the frustrated boy before him fidget helplessly. 

“What did I do? I don’t... when have I...” Jungkook stumbles over his words, desperately trying to grab onto any memory of a mishap from before, but all he can recall is the times when he'd saved you. What was his third sin? 

“It’ll... become clear to you later on. Just know that you have committed three sins in the eyes of the Almighty, and last night was the last strike.”

Jungkook’s mouth turns down into a frown, his mouth going dry the longer he thinks of his position. He had become weaker and he thought that maybe that was just part of the punishment when you committed one or two sins as an angel, but he had never felt so dense and useless in his life. Knowing the gravity of the situation now, he only longed to see you even more. “Are you here to... was it really bad? Are you here to kill me?”

“That’s not it, Kook. You’re still allowed your human years on this earth to live out. But...” Jimin lets the affectionate name slip, and Jungkook lets his mouth snap shut, gnawing on his lip to keep from demanding Jimin to keep speaking. “...You’re not their guardian angel anymore. A new guardian angel will be sent to (Name) soon, and you will lose all your remaining angelic abilities when that happens. Any emotional ties to (Name) will be severed, and you will be damned to live out your remaining human years here remembering what you've done. Whether you die a fallen to be tortured in hell or become a pawn in Lucifer's game... you are no longer one of us.”

* * *

 

When you step out of the bar, the weight on your shoulders is removed and then replaced with a new one. You had gotten the job which is easily a plus, though you still weren’t sure you even wanted it at this point. You weren’t used to working in a bar, and you had very little confidence you’d be very useful in such a commonly violent one like this, but it also wasn’t like you had to keep the job. If any of the other places called back, you’d be able to take it over this one... right? You could only hope the other places _would_ call back, despite the dreaded feeling in your stomach telling you that it wasn’t likely.

You were so lost in your thoughts about whether you’d get the call back from the bookstore down the street that you almost didn’t realize something felt off. Had you forgotten your bag in the bar? A quick glance to your side reminded you that you still had it, so what were you missing? You were a few paces closer to your car, ready to call it a day and to get something to eat when you suddenly remembered. Your eyes frantically searched for the dark haired angel who had been glued to your side since last night. Where the hell was Jungkook?

“Jungkook?” You kept calling out, walking up and down the street a few times, steadily growing more and more worried the longer you went without seeing him. Where could he be? He said he could feel your emotions, so couldn’t he sense your distress? There was no way he was far away enough to not feel you, hell, he had told you himself your connection was so strong he’d feel it on another continent. So where was he now when you needed him?

You were about to double the street once more when you suddenly got a strong gut feeling. For whatever reason, you had an urge to head back to the bar to find Yoongi. There was no way he could have seen Jungkook as he hadn’t left the bar, and going back wouldn’t really give you any clues as to where your angel had gone (your angel? When had you started referring to him as “yours”?), but you couldn’t ignore it. You couldn’t leave him behind, even though you doubted he wouldn’t be able to find you. You didn’t feel right about it, and the best place to ultimately be if he came back would be the bar. 

Dragging your feet along the concrete, you started your wobbly trek back to Hell’s Kitchen, and you absentmindedly prayed that Jungkook would find his way back to you soon. You’d really have no idea if he had gotten himself hurt, or worse, and that thought only made you shiver. If God still cared about him, you only hoped he’d care enough to send him back to you.

* * *

 

Yoongi scoffed under his breath, glancing over at Hoseok a few steps ahead of him. The taller demon had put on a lot more muscle lately and had become one of Yoongi’s best, but he hadn’t quite passed Namjoon yet in experience. He was close though, that was for sure. The kid had everything; looks, strength, and a charming way with words. He was  _almost_  perfect... but he had never tortured a soul in his life, or, more respectively, death.

Being the prince of hell, Yoongi had a lot of privileges. One of them being the ability to do as he pleased in both Hell and on earth, and while his father hoped Yoongi would like being in Hell more, Yoongi chose earth in a heartbeat. It was more fun anyway. Here, there was no prince title for him, no one bowed to him (except maybe Hoseok, but Yoongi would break him out of that soon). As far as any drunk in here was concerned, he was just a silver tongued pretty boy trying to make a living. 

But, he still had business to attend to.

The punk from earlier squirmed under Hoseok’s foot, begging for mercy through the thick cloth stuffed in his mouth. Yoongi scrunched up his nose at the furious tears coming out of his eyes, and then rolled his own, “It’s always you and your little friend causing trouble around here. I’ve let it go a few times, but I’m starting to get really fucking annoyed with you.” As Yoongi speaks, Hoseok presses the heel of his shoe harder into the man’s chest, right above his heart. Any harder and he’d stop it.

“Boss, I think he’s asking for another chance. How cute.” Hoseok giggles, raising his foot to nudge the punk’s cheek with the toe of his sneakers. The man seems to grow even more urgent, wiggling this way and that under the tight knotted ropes binding him still. 

“Who do I look like to you, God?” Yoongi laughs lightly, before dragging his foot back to kick the man in the crotch, making him scream in agony. Surely he’d destroyed  _something_ ; the demon prince could tell by the expression on the man’s face. “Then again, who am I kidding? God isn’t even as forgiving as you’re all fooled to believe.” 

The man’s eyebrows furrow, and Yoongi lets out a heavy, bored sigh. He had been hoping he’d have a little more fun with this one, but he looked just as desperate and pathetic as the others, and if anything, it only made Yoongi that much more uninterested. No matter how many souls he took on earth, the fun dwindled more and more. When was someone going to give him a rush? He was tired of the same useless drunks sauntering in and out of his bar, and as much as it pained him to think so, he was getting tired of his endless arrays of companions too. He’d had every flavor and he was... bored.

“Have him, Hobi. Namjoon should be done with his by now. Have fun, but be clean about it, I don’t want people asking questions again.” Yoongi grimaces at the thought of the two cops he’d had to take care of several months ago. It had taken the most effort out of him to cover up, and while he didn’t object to charming humans now and again, he preferred not to.

“...fun?” Hoseok asks, grabbing the man by the collar and lifting him up on his ass. 

“You’re cute, Hobi, but you can’t scare anyone for shit... at least give him a little fright before you off him. His soul will taste a lot sweeter that way.” Yoongi offers the tip, watching as Hoseok swallows and tightens his grip on the man’s collar. Hoseok wasn’t one to play with his food, but he’d learn. Yoongi would make sure of it.

With that, Yoongi turns on his heel and exits the back of the restaurant, strides down the dimly lit hall into the kitchen, and ends up back at the bar, where he was surprised to find someone waiting for him. No, not just anyone. It was you, panting lightly with your hands braced against the bar and your eyes instantly glued onto him.

“It’s not Monday yet, doll. Did you miss the place that much?” He attempts to crack a smile out of you, but you don’t return his banter.

“You...” You’re just about to ask him if he’s seen someone who looks like Jungkook around but you quickly stop yourself. No one could see Jungkook unless he let them, right? If while you were searching for him, he could've come back. Was it possible that he had let Yoongi see him to ask where you’d gone? 

While you fight with yourself about whether it’s safe to ask, Yoongi’s brows furrow and he leans over the counter a little more, his playful grin turning into a frown, “What’s wrong? You look like you’re fighting with yourself about something.” Yoongi isn’t too sure why he even cares, but you look pretty stressed and, well, it’s not like he’s got anything better to do.

Finally making up your mind, you look him in the eye with a look of urgency, “Has a tall brunette with big puppy dog eyes come in here since I left?” Your question puzzles the prince, and he quickly scans his memory, but comes up short. “No... no one like that. Lose someone?” He inquires, watching as your expression falls. 

“Yeah, someone kinda important. I left him outside when I came in earlier but he’s not there.” “Why don’t you call him?” Yoongi offers, folding his arms on the bar as he settles, watching you run a hand through your hair in frustration. 

“He doesn’t have a phone.” You answer with a sigh, trying not to stress too much, but you can’t help the sweat beginning to build on the back of your neck. It wasn’t everyday you lost your guardian angel. He’d said before that if he was far for even a moment, it could open you up to all kinds of danger. If he was gone, who knew what could happen to you? Plus, what if he was hurt? He'd told you how thin the ice was that he was currently standing on with God of all people; what if he'd been zapped out of existence while you were gone? Dragged up to heaven to be struck from his position in front of the other angels as an example? You kept telling yourself you should be more worried about your own safety despite the little voice in your head praying that Jungkook wasn’t hurt too.

Yoongi snorts, tilting his head at you, “Your boyfriend doesn’t have a phone?" Your head snaps up to look at the bartender, bewildered by his sudden statement, your cheeks flushing hot at the implication that Jungkook was your  _boyfriend_. If saving you from an ugly death twice in a row was bad, you could only imagine Jungkook thinking of you in...  _that_  way would be, like, applicable for the lowest tier of hell. 

“What?” You murmur, trying to decipher if you’d really heard him right or if the stress of your life was finally hitting you in all its entirety. When Yoongi visibly flinches, you know you’ve heard him right. 

“Sorry, that was uh... presumptive of me. Maybe it’s best for you to stay here until he comes back? Since this is the last place he left you, I’m sure he just went to go run a quick errand or something.” Yoongi attempts to assure you, and while you know clearly that it couldn’t be the case, you nod to let him at least know you’re listening, settling into the bar stool you’d sat in nearly half an hour ago. 

“Want something to take your mind off it?” Yoongi offers, motioning to the array of alcohol stacked behind him. The offer is tempting, but the last thing you want to be is drunk and anxious again. You’d done that last night, and had it not been for Jungkook...

You had almost forgotten what you had attempted to do last night, and the memory of it burns something fierce behind your eyes and in your lungs. You close your eyes fiercely, trying desperately to erase the feelings you’d had standing by the river, overlooking the black waters, the cold air numbing your fingers and toes...

“ _No_ ,” you say with more force than you intend to, “never. Not anymore.” 

Concern, for a brief second, flashes in Yoongi’s eyes as he watches your stiff expression. You’re not looking up at him anymore, and your fists are clenched atop the bar as you try to collect your thoughts. His mouth twists awkwardly, and for some reason unbeknownst to him at the time, he starts to consider what to say to you to help remedy the situation. He doesn’t want to ask you directly, because by the way you’re looking, it’s something serious, but he can’t help the bubbling curiosity. Yoongi was always good at telling what a human’s fatal flaw was, and while yours wasn’t so easily written on your face, he knew alcoholism wasn’t it. Maybe it... brought back bad memories? What had you went through that made you look so lost in front of him?

Yoongi’s lips part just as he has an intrusive thought to abuse some of his power, but then the door to the bar swings open. Yoongi doesn’t give the incoming patron more than a glance, ready to console you, when you turn your attention to the person and let out a sharp breath, “Jungkook! Where’ve you been?” 

You slide out of your seat and rush over to who Yoongi recognizes as your not-boyfriend: “Jungkook”. The guy who entered is tall like you said, towering over Yoongi (though he’s pretty much used to that by now), and he’s covered in sweat, his glowing skin shining from it. His dark hair sticks to his forehead as his eyes land on you and he quickly grabs onto your wrist, dragging you out of the bar before you or Yoongi can say any parting words. Part of him is a little disappointed too, and annoyed that you’d been snatched away before he could talk more, but that's when he catches it. It’s faint, a scent he wouldn’t have picked up on if it was any less perceptible. It’s the smell of vanilla, of sweet water, and surprisingly, of dying flowers. It’s the smell Yoongi was born hating, the smell that only ever plagued him in his dreams. A smell he hoped he’d never have to have so close to him again.

It was the smell of an angel; it was filthy... and it was fading.

* * *

You think, even if Jungkook didn’t have super angel powers or whatever, his grip would be no less tight around your wrist.

You haven’t been able to catch his attention since he whisked you out of the bar. He’s staring straight ahead, eyes diverting from person to person, pulling you in that much closer and moving that much faster until you're approaching your car. It looks like he knows something you don’t, and while you have half a mind to beat at his back with your free fist until he gives, you don’t.

The day had been winding down on you quick, what with the scare in the bar, getting offered a job at said bar, and the panic attack you’d had when you lost Jungkook. All of that included being reminded about your incident from last night in a much more sober state of mind… you could barely keep up with the long-legged angel searching for your car in the parking lot.

“Jungkook?” You try, deciding to start off small once he comes to a complete stop in front of your car and releases your hand. He glances at you, but doesn’t give you much else to go off on to know that he’s even truly listening. You continue anyway, “Where did you go? I was wor- I couldn’t find you.” You cover up your slip up with a slight cough, but Jungkook doesn’t seem to pay it any mind. He doesn’t seem to pay  _you_  any mind. 

You raise your hand to grab his shoulder, intent on getting his attention, when something rams into your shoulder instead and you fall off balance. You would have surely face-planted into the concrete as well, had it not been for two hands expertly gripping your waist and yanking you back upright, right into arms that didn’t look familiar at all. The chest is covered in a cloud white blouse, the front decorated with ruffles akin to something you’d see on one of the founding fathers and definitely not on one of the patrons to city life surrounding you. The collar of said shirt is tightly secured around the strong neck of your unknown savior, and when you follow the sharp jawline and tear your gaze away from pink, soft lips, you’re met with amused eyes, “Careful, that could have been quite a spill.” The creamy voice of his puts you in a trance right away.

He’s… not real.

At least, he doesn’t  _look_  real.

His hair is a baby pink shade that is obviously artificial but doesn't look out of place on him, dusting lightly over chocolate eyes and, surprisingly, silver hooped cartilage piercings on either ear. He looks a bit like a cross between a prince, a pirate, and a demigod, and had you met him before yesterday, you might have been emphatic that he was none of the above. What he is, that you can say for sure, is that he's still holding you.

You notice once you feel his hands break off rather forcefully, and your arm is taken in the grasp of someone more familiar. Jungkook is staring past your head, eyes narrowing at the gentleman who might've broken out of a fantasy renaissance fair. “Sorry, they’ll watch where they're going next time.” Jungkook speaks for you, and you send him a glare at his snippy tone. The gentleman seems fine though, unbothered and brushing it off with a small shrug of the shoulders. The action looks far too casual for a man who looks like him, “It was my fault. I got so distracted by those eyes of yours that I couldn’t see straight.” Damn it, you were in a compromised state of mind at the moment. You did not need to be  _flirted_  with right now!

You laugh weakly, unable to hide the steady embarrassment written all over your face as the man chuckles at your expense. He seems carefree, with nowhere to go and nowhere he’s come from. You’re intrigued to say the least. 

“It’s... fine. It’s not like I’m severely injured or anything… ah, oh, actually…” You feign a pain in your shoulder, trying to tease in an attempt to regain your composure as the stranger’s grin widens.

“Oh my, by all means, if I’ve hurt you, I should take responsibility.” “Your responsibility is to get lost.” Jungkook cuts in right there and you’re more than surprised when it’s not delicate and warm like usual, but rather so cold that it speaks volumes. Jungkook doesn’t like this guy for some reason, and it makes you aware too that it might not be for no good reason. The gentleman’s eyebrow quirks slightly, and his smile falters a bit.

You don’t want any more drama than you’ve already gotten, so you quickly accept that today should end without a fist fight.  _Another_  fist fight at least.

Finding that Jungkook won’t even allow you a moment to speak with the man any longer, you squeeze his hand with the one he isn’t gripping, giving him a look before you throw over your shoulder, “Have a good day.” The gentleman locks eyes with you as you’re dragged to the driver's side and further away from him, and you’re perplexed when he murmurs just loud enough for you to hear before walking away, “That won’t help me any.” 

* * *

You attempt to question Jungkook in the car, especially once you finally notice the scattered scars and bruises along his face and knuckles, but he seems keen on refusing to talk to you for the time being. While he’s silent, you tell him you’ve got the job, that the bartender was strange, and that he had kept you company while Jungkook had been missing doing God knows what. You placed emphasis on how upset you were he had disappeared, but he didn’t seem all that fazed, rather giving you an indirect glare and sulking in his seat. This wasn’t the Jungkook you had grown used to, but then again, you’d only known him for a day.

You don’t dare mention the fight in the bar, but you almost want to. You’d like to get a reaction out of Jungkook besides empty looks and huffing, but it didn’t seem like your wish would be granted any time soon. If anything, he’d be like this for the rest of the day. 

Part of you wished you could probe into his mind, figure out why he had been so eager to pull you out of the bar, why he had been so snappy to that pretty stranger, and why he had the audacity to ignore you now. But there had to be a good reason, you wouldn’t accept any other kind of reason at this point. All you could do was wait until he deemed it fit to say something.

When you two arrived at home, he was quick to hop out of the car, but was left bouncing on the heels of his feet when he couldn’t get inside the house. You watch with confusion as you get out to follow. By the time you reach the porch and are finding the house key, you inquire, "Why didn't you just walk through the door? You obviously can let people walk through you, and I imagine you had to get around with me somehow when you were invisible."

There's a flicker of something in his eyes, that same frustrated look that he'd had the entire drive home. You feel like it's got something to do with what he's hiding from you which only serves to make you nervous on top of being irritated by his immaturity, but he won't answer you. His lips are sealed tight and you're losing patience. Deciding to just get inside and deal with it then, you get the door open and flick on the hallway light, expecting Jungkook to be hot on your heels, but there's just a cool breeze behind you. You exert a lot of effort trying to not groan out loud.

“ _What_? Why aren’t you coming in?” You ask, your hand clenching around the door as you look around behind you. There doesn’t seem to be anyone around, nothing suspicious so far, yet he won’t stop looking so… tense. Was he just being even more stubborn? What was the point of hesitating when he was so quick to get away from you just a few moments ago?

“Nothing. You go in first.” He commands, his eyes flitting to the left before he focuses in on you. You try to follow his quick gaze but again, you’re left with an empty street and frustration. What was his  _problem_  today?

Annoyed, you do as told, slinking into the house and sliding off your shoes as soon as you’re able. Jungkook follows close behind, making sure to double check the locks on the door. You find his behavior increasingly worrying, but his mouth is clamped shut as if he’s telling you  _just try to get me to talk_. Mook greets Jungkook with fond purring as she rubs herself against his pant leg, but he doesn’t pay her any mind whatsoever. Mook notices and quickly switches over to you, seeking the affection Jungkook doesn’t give her, and you scowl but drop to a crouch anyway, scratching her head. “I’m not a replacement human for you, you know that? I won’t be used like this.” You whisper to her, feeling Jungkook brush past you two into the living room.

You look up and see him mindlessly flipping through TV channels, and Mook quickly runs over to sidle up next to him on the couch, even though he’s still not paying her attention in the slightest. You’re not sure why your cat is attracted to his indifference even when you’re there, but you can’t say you’re jealous. If he's going to be like that, she can have him.

You’re halfway into the kitchen when the doorbell rings, and you frown, turning to look at the brown door with confusion. Who’d be coming to your house without calling beforehand? You didn’t have that many friends, let alone any who’d pop up at your place unannounced (well, any that you were currently talking to anyway), and your family wouldn’t spend time visiting you unless it was absolutely unavoidable. 

Jungkook hasn’t moved from the couch, but he’s looking in your direction, his expression troubled, “Were you expecting company?” He asks, watching as you slowly shake your head. In an instant, he’s up and walking over to the door, but you catch him in time, fearing for the state of your front door (and whoever was behind it) from the look on his face.

You just barely manage to grab at his hand before frowning up at him, “What is your deal? You’re really starting to piss me off with this no talking thing.” You reprimand. 

“Look, some things are out of a human’s control. Even if I told you what was bothering me, there’d be nothing you could do about it.” Jungkook tugs his arm to break your grip, but not hard enough, because you’re still holding on. You know for a fact if he wanted you to let go, he would bother to try a little harder.

“I deserve to know, don’t I? I am willingly housing your ass.” “You have no choice. Even if I wasn’t visible to you, I’d still-” “I’m sorry, who was the one talking about how deep in shit they were with God last night? If I remember correctly, you messed up quite a lot with the big man upstairs, and, currently, you’re still going against his rules. I wouldn’t be surprised if you were becoming human right this second.” Jungkook’s cheeks flare red and his jaw clenches in anger. You definitely hit a nerve. Was that what this was all about? Was he no longer your angel anymore after all?

“I  _am_ still here, aren’t I?” He adds, as if that makes much of a difference right now.

“But whoever is outside that door… might be replacing you.” Your tone turns grim. If what you were implying was true, would you still be left to remember Jungkook? From the look on his face, you highly doubted it. You also highly doubted a new guardian angel would  _ring your doorbell_ , but you digress.

Dropping his head, eyes downcast to the floor in shame, he can only confirm your suspicions in the silence that follows. Suddenly, you’re not so keen on opening that door at all.

And you don’t have to, it opens for you.

Jungkook’s eyebrows furrow at the tall man before you two, his hand clutching a very familiar lime green painted key in his right hand and a cardboard box in the other. 

There's a stiffening in Jungkook's shoulders the minute the man enters. He must know what it’s like for you to see him again. It had been a month since you had last done so, and your last memory of him wasn’t very pleasant. You’d expected a head’s up, maybe a text or a call, but he’s here in the flesh and looking you in the eyes, having the audacity to give you a small smile.

Your ex, Youngho, hikes his backpack strap further up his shoulder before pocketing his key, “Hey, (Name). Is this a bad time?”

* * *

It’s awkwardly silent in the house as Youngho moves throughout, packing up clothes, trinkets, and the like into his box as you sit on the couch twiddling your thumbs. Youngho had made it clear; he came for what little remained of his things and then he’d be gone before you knew it. He had given Jungkook a confused look as soon as he entered though, but Jungkook had said nothing short of a swear before he stomped off to the kitchen. For once that day, you were glad Jungkook was quiet.

It was bad, but you hadn’t been able to get Youngho’s infidelity off your mind since he had entered. He whistled a familiar tune as he scooped up a few stray things he’d brought of his to your house, a tune he would hum to you when he greeted you in the mornings. You painfully recalled the warm arms wrapping around your waist, the minty “just brushed” breath tickling your earlobe, the smell of pine and cranberries…

You also can’t stop seeing him hovering over an unidentified girl in your mind, eyes looking over his shoulder as his jaw drops at you. You had felt so pathetic in that moment, had practically burst into tears in the doorway. You had wanted to beat him with the roses, stuff the chocolates down his throat until he choked, and you had almost went through with it all… but something had held you back. A whisper, a soft embrace, a murmur of “it’s not worth it”. You realized now that that had probably been Jungkook, and that he had cleared the rage from your hazy, heartbroken mind. That was also the same night he first saved you.

You swallow thickly, attempting to focus on  _anything_  else but Youngho’s dominating presence, but you came up short the longer he stayed. He didn’t even have that much shit at your place. If anything, you had more stuff in his bathroom alone. You’d have to get that stuff too, one day.

“(Name)?” Youngho asks, and you jump at the sudden awareness of him right in front of you, bent at the waist to look you in the eyes. He has a gentle, unbothered smile on as he asks, “Do you know where my favorite sweater is? I can’t find it.” 

 _God_. 

You had been reluctant to give Jungkook anything of Youngho’s, but he had been so cold that night he showed up… it was an afterthought. A simple “just in case”. He hadn’t been wearing it this morning, but you knew he still had it. “U-uh, hold on.” You mumble, slipping away from him to stand and find Jungkook. When you enter the kitchen, you find Jungkook sat on top of the counter, his expression dull and cold. You think he’s just bored of waiting around for Youngho to leave, but then you catch sight of his knuckles. They were stark white from clenching the counter so hard. Was this bothering him as much as it was bothering you?

“Jungkook, where’s the sweater I gave you last night?” You ask him, watching as he turns his head to you and raises an eyebrow.

“You’re not being serious… are you?”

You blanch at his question, “Excuse me?” 

Jungkook doesn’t hesitate to hop down off the counter, making no move to lower the volume of his voice as he nears closer to you, “You let that asshole into the house after what he did to you on your anniversary and now you’re helping him look for his _favorite sweater_?” Jungkook’s tone turns mocking as he imitates Youngho’s voice, and your eyes widen at the thought he could hear you both. “Jungkook-” “I wore it. And then I gave it to Mook.” 

“You gave my sweater to that fur ball?” You and Jungkook both turn at the new voice in the kitchen, seeing Youngho with a disgusted look on his face. 

Youngho had always hated staying the night at your place simply because of Mook. The cat had a bit of a shedding problem, but he never attempted to get used to her, or to show her any affection or care whatsoever. He had decided she was the bane of his existence, and God forbid if he ever came over, you’d have to lock her up in another room and vacuum up all her fur or he’d throw a fit. You spent more nights in his home than he yours, needless to say.

Jungkook, looking even more irked, turns his attention to Youngho with a scowl, “Yeah. Did’ya check the litter box?” 

Youngho’s eyes widened and he immediately darted out of the kitchen, and you followed suit, Jungkook not straying far behind as Youngho came across Mook’s litter box, blanketed with the dark green sweater that was undoubtedly covered in Mook’s… excretion. To top it all off, Mook was sat upon the couch diagonal from the litter box, her long tail curling back and forth as she watched Youngho with a disinterested expression. The sight of it alone would have make you laugh if only you weren’t so nervous.

You had been dreaming of getting revenge on Youngho for a while, but now that he was here… all you could remember was the boy you fell in love with, mixed with a dash of what he became. In fact, if it wasn’t for Jungkook, you might’ve given away that you hadn’t washed the sweater at all since he'd first left it there, that you had kept it like usual to hold and remember him because damn it, he was terrible but he was once the love of your life.

Youngho doesn’t even attempt to take the sweater, looking from the cat to Jungkook, and with a resounding shout of frustration, he turns to you, “I can’t believe your new little boyfriend is so petty. How childish.” 

“What’s childish is playing with their feelings. And if you don’t get lost, I’ll show you how petty I can be.” Jungkook doesn’t hesitate to step up to Youngho, his stature much taller and broader than Youngho’s just by sheer intimidation alone. Youngho attempts to stand his ground, but it’s obvious who would win if he threw the first punch. He wasn’t very bright, but he knew when to back down from a fight when he could, that was for sure. Physically, at least.

“Wow… you’re lucky I don’t have time for this, kid. I’d show you a thing or two about talking back-” “Oh, fuck off.” Jungkook grabs Youngho by the collar without another word, shocking you as he literally drags your ex-boyfriend through the front door and out into the yard before coming back to grab his box and dump his things onto the concrete. You hear glass shatter, something else cracks. Jungkook walks back inside, but he’s far from done as he picks up Mook’s litter box, stomping right back outside to dump the contents over your ex’s head. 

Youngho yells in disgust, flailing to get himself clean and upright, just as Jungkook grabs him by the collar once more and raises him to eye level. You watch, in somewhere between mild horror and amusement, as your guardian angel continues to scare the shit out of your ex. This wasn’t you trashing his car or egging his house. No… this was  _much_  better. 

“Perfect, isn’t it? With the shit, right where you belong.” Jungkook snarls and shoves Youngho back to the ground and into more of Mook’s dump before retrieving the small green key to your home out of his pocket. You laugh in amazement as he breaks it in half, throwing the remainders of the metal at Youngho’s chest.

Youngho is speechless, his mouth open and hands furiously combing the litter out of his hair in an attempt to save face. “(Name)!” He stutters out helplessly, trying to get your attention as you stand on your porch with your arms limp at your sides. “Y-you… you can’t just let him…” He tries to speak, his gaze turning desperate the longer you stand idle. Jungkook doesn’t even have to look at you; this is what you’ve wanted for a month. 

“I can,” you state confidently, your heart swelling with satisfaction. For a whole month, you’d been feeling so helplessly in love with Youngho despite what he'd done. Even when you wanted to move on you couldn’t, and he was happy with someone else while you struggled to find the will to live. Many times, you'd wanted to do exactly what Jungkook was doing to him now, but you always ended up in the same state you did on the couch: scared, lost for words, small. Now here he was, sprawled in your yard, covered in cat shit, and looking as bad as you’d felt that night you'd found him, “and if you ever come back here again, I’ll let my  _childish_  boyfriend do much worse.”

You miss the proud look that flashes on Jungkook’s features when he comes to stand before you, ushering you back in the house and shutting the door behind you with a soft thud. As soon as Youngho’s eyes are off of you, your shoulders fall forward and you look over at Jungkook, exhausted. He’s smiling at you though, his hand on your lower back as he guides you over to the couch to sit. When you flop down unceremoniously, he kneels before you and reaches for your hand to hold, his comforting warmth enveloping your fingers and steeling you for the moment. You had never felt so in control in your life, and you could only hope this feeling lasted forever. Is this what it felt like to be free?

“I’m… I apologize. You don’t know how badly I hated that guy. He was never right for you.” Jungkook whispers, his thumb moving over the back of your hand comfortingly.

You nod your head softly and sigh, a tired chuckle passing your lips, “I kinda wish you’d shown yourself to me back when I started dating him so I’d have known… but thank you. You didn’t have to defend me like that.” 

Jungkook’s expression turns slightly frustrated, his hand closing around yours tighter, “Of course I did. I’m your…” His voice falters softly, “...your guardian. I’m supposed to take care of you no matter what. Your happiness and wellbeing is my number one priority.” You don’t miss the crack in his voice when he says “guardian”, and the questions from earlier start to swirl in your head once more. You know that it might ruin the mood if you ask now, but you can’t hold it in much longer. You’re dying to know.

“Jungkook… what happened back at the bar? Where did you go?”

* * *

“I take it you’ve been… better.”

Jimin looks up at the sound of a familiar voice, and his suspicions are confirmed. Seokjin stands at the other end of the alleyway, looking as dapper and immaculate as ever as he strolls down to meet up with Jimin. 

After Jimin had talked to Jungkook, he had used all of his strength to keep the younger angel from hurting somebody, hurting himself, hurting  _him_. Jimin wasn’t that much older than Jungkook, but he had seen his fair share of guardian angels being removed from their line of work. Some were apathetic, most were heartbroken. It was expected; angels and the humans they guarded had a bond that could rival a human and the Almighty’s. It was so strong that Jimin had personally requested to be anything  _but_  a guardian angel. Seokjin, on the other hand, had been different from creation.

Seokjin was a beautiful and terrifying angel, and had Jimin been able to be honest with himself, he’d say that Seokjin reminded him of Lucifer himself. Beautiful, lovely, a voice to charm life itself, and a danger to all if used malevolence. Seokjin had always had a fascination with humans, had learned their ways and flirted with their intentions countless times, but he knew the Almighty and his rules so well that he escaped trouble at every turn. If there was ever an angel to fear, it was Seokjin.

“Yeah, hm. What are you doing down here? Did you get sent to report me?” “Never. God sees all, after all. He knows what you’re up to.” Another thing: Seokjin had the gall to call the Almighty by his real name. “Then what is it?” Jimin asks, leaning against the wall as he pants, his hands and arms covered in scratches from Jungkook’s tantrum. They were healing quickly, but not quick enough for his liking. 

“I was just strolling through town, and I caught wind of my favorite angel in distress. Battling with a youngling?” Seokjin inquires, crouching slightly to be level with a sitting Jimin. 

“He’s not… he’s not going to be an angel much longer. He didn’t take it very well.” 

Seokjin clicks his tongue, looking over Jimin’s wounds with a frown, “Hmph. I can tell. I think I bumped into him. He has quite a bit of angel aura left in him, but it’s fading. Poor charge of his, having him taken away from them is gonna leave a scar on their heart for sure. If they're left to remember it, anyway.”

Jimin frowns, his arms folded across his chest as he watches Seokjin. He can’t tell what the angel is thinking exactly, but if it’s what he assumes, it’s only a matter of time before the older angel goes through with it. “Do not interfere, Seokjin… please. Jungkook is already suffering enough.”

Seokjin just smiles, his teeth shining as he ruffles Jimin’s hair, “A mistake like this can’t go unnoticed any longer, Jiminie. If you won’t interfere, I will. And you know what they say about the early bird.” With that, Seokjin straightens and huffs out a troubled breath. “Hm… that charge… they reeked of demon. That won’t do.” 

Jimin groans as Seokjin makes his way toward the opposite end of the alley, feeling his palms grow sweaty.  “I’m serious, Seokjin! Don’t try anything!” Jimin yells after the angel. Seokjin turns gracefully, approaching the street and oncoming traffic as he grins. A yellow taxi is speeding at him, sure to make impact, before the background behind Seokjin shimmers like water ripples, “I’ll be seeing you and that soon to be fallen angel soon, Jiminie! Let’s talk more next time.” And with that, the older angel falls back into the concealed portal, just before the taxi zooms past.

 


	4. iv. arsonist's lullaby

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> heaven and hell collide.

Writing it all down helps make a lot more sense than you originally expected.

It had only been two days and yet you felt like it had been fifty years. From meeting your guardian angel, to finding out he could no longer  _be_  your guardian angel, to running into a  _possibly new_  guardian angel (all the while having your current angel completely kick your ex’s ass), you'd had your fair share enough of stress for a lifetime... and it wasn't even Monday yet.  _Monday…_  

You sink further into the cushions of your bed, Jungkook resting beside you with light snores falling from his mouth. Now that he was becoming mortal, he was gradually needing sleep and sustenance. You’d been taking pretty good care of him since Saturday when he had told you everything in your living room, but you were starting to wonder if this was what having a kid was like. An... overgrown, very hungry, very supernatural kid. Jungkook still made up for the food he gobbled down by being something of a listening ear to you as you ranted about work and Youngho and family just to get it off your chest, but even you couldn’t ignore the fact that this set-up was just plain weird. You'd only known him for two days, and already you knew more about your world than most people would be privy to in their entire lifetime.

Jungkook had told you that he had been visited by an old friend by the name of Jimin, a fellow angel, who had informed Jungkook that he didn’t have much time left as an angel and that his strength and powers were slowly depleting. And yet, that wasn’t what had worried you. Jungkook told you that with becoming mortal, he’d ultimately lose the special emotional ties to you that allowed him to know how you felt and where you were in case of emergency. It put you at risk, and you didn’t even want to think about how things would work when your new angel came. Jungkook had made it very clear, though: he was not leaving you. It also wasn't like you wanted him to anyway; you had grown rather fond of him after all. It was nice to have someone around that cared about you so much, someone who you hadn't had to pour your all into in order to get that feeling reciprocated. Even though he was your guardian angel, you still felt that the "love" he showed you was truly genuine and not just based on his profession. You’d be more partial toward him too, seeing as he was your first. Still, there was something eating at your mind the entire weekend that you hadn’t had the guts to discuss with him yet. 

Obviously, Jungkook had explained that knowing your angel (and no, not in the biblical sense. and yes, you did check that that's what he meant) for an extended period of time would be counted as a sin for the angel, especially if the angel failed to have their charge's mind wiped after the need to know them was no longer necessary, so it was best that angels stayed hidden. It was one of Jungkook’s sins now, but there had been something about what Jimin had told Jungkook that left you confused. As far as Jungkook knew, he had committed two sins: saving you from death twice, otherwise known as changing your destined fate. However, the third was, as Jimin put it to Jungkook, something he was "unaware of". Given that he was very much aware of his failure to make you forget he existed, it couldn't have been his third sin. The both of you had tried to go over every possible thing Jungkook could have done wrong, but he couldn't figure it out and by the end of the night, the two of you were too tired to think on it any longer.

Sunday was spent in a sort of resting phase, and all you'd really done was make preparations mentally and financially for what might happen forward. If Jungkook was truly becoming human, you knew he had nowhere else to go, and while the last thing you needed was another person living in your house with you, you very well couldn't just kick him to the curb after all he'd done for you. Still, there was the matter of the new guardian angel.

If the new angel came, they probably wouldn’t reveal themselves to you like Jungkook had as far as Jungkook understood. Having knowledge of your guardian angel wasn’t allowed, so ultimately you’d be made to forget. You'd be made to forget everything you knew about angels, made to forget all the times you’d been saved by angels, made to forget  _Jungkook_.

It was inevitable. You weren’t supposed to know anything, and to erase that error, your new angel would most likely wipe your memory, or at least replace the bits they could with new memories. Instead of Jungkook making the car miss you, the driver simply swerved out of the way in time. Instead of Jungkook saving you from jumping into the river, it’d be a kindly passing stranger. Instead of every minute you’ve spent with Jungkook, it’d be nothing. You’ll live your life never remembering, and so would Mr. Min, and you guessed that went for Youngho too. Except Jungkook. Jungkook would be forced to remember.

Another thing Jungkook hadn’t explained to you either was the beautiful man you’d met on the street.

You had forgotten to ask in the whirlwind of other questions you had for Jungkook, and every time you came close to bringing it up, you’d think of something else of more importance. For now, it was the impending arrival of your new guardian angel.

Fingers trembling around the pen in your hand, you feel warmth engulf your wrist, and when you look down, Jungkook’s eyes are half open, his lips slowly parting as he mumbles, “What are you doing up?”

You make your hand into a fist to somehow still the trembling, hoping he couldn’t feel it, and gingerly shake your head with an awkward smile, “Nothing. Just thinking.” You assure him. Jungkook looks unconvinced that it’s just nothing, but he doesn’t push you... yet his hand doesn’t release you either. Slowly, his fingers slide toward your hand and take the pen away from you, tossing it and the notebook in your lap across the room with a faint clatter. Before you have a chance to protest, Jungkook hooks an arm around your middle and rearranges you onto your back, tucked impossibly close to his chest as your heart stutters in your chest.  _What in the world..?_

“Sleep. You’ve got your first day tomorrow.” Jungkook whispers, his breath warm against the shell of your ear as you fight the urge to remove yourself. 

“Still… you didn’t have to throw my stuff.” You pout, crossing your arms as best as you’re able with Jungkook’s arm still tightly wound around your middle.

He chuckles, and you can feel the vibrations against your side, “I’m sorry, Mr. Pen and Notepad. I didn’t mean to be so aggressive, but (Name) needs to sleep.”

“I’m an adult, Kook. I can go to sleep on my own.” 

“Kook?” Jungkook hums, “My, you're already using my nickname.” 

Cheeks burning, you huff and wriggle around in his hold until you’re facing him, and his half-lidded eyes watch you with sleepy intrigue. “Don’t take it as you growing on me. You’re still a thorn in my side.” Jungkook doesn’t seem to be paying you any attention as he shuts his eyes, starting to drift off. 

“Wouldn’t expect anything else.” He breathes, the hand wrapped around your middle now gliding up to your hair. His fingers gently card through the strands and his fingernails scrape against your scalp slowly, much more pleasurable than you would have thought possible. Letting out a soft, involuntary mewl, Jungkook laughs at your reaction and continues to play with your hair as you grow more and more tired. Maybe he was right, you needed sleep if you were going to work tomorrow. It was just so hard when you had someone like Jungkook laying in bed next to you, doting on you like you'd known each other for years.

“Goodnight,  _adult_.” Jungkook whispers one last time, before the both of you drift off for the night.

* * *

The bar looks, somehow, a lot less intimidating than it had the day you applied for your job.

You still felt odd about having Jungkook come to the bar however. “Sit out… again?” Jungkook repeats back, his eyebrows furrowed as he stands with you outside the entrance. It was pretty early in your mind for a bar to be open, but hell, at least that you could work more hours and get more pay. The sun was now rising in the sky, sometime past 6:42 in the morning, the sunlight casting a golden glow on Jungkook as he stared at you. 

“Call it a gut feeling or some lame attempt at keeping you safe, but this isn’t really the place I’d want my vulnerable guardian angel in,” Jungkook’s jaw clenches as he’s ready to defend himself at the word “vulnerable”, but you don’t let him get a word in, “you don’t have to go far, okay? I’ve actually got somewhere in mind.” Gently, you take Jungkook’s arm and pull him down the street, the path you take all too familiar to Jungkook. He realizes where you plan to drop him off at before you even get there, and his body relaxes, even if only a little. He knows this place, he knows the people inside. It’s safe.

The little bookstore is a nice, vintage contrast to the rest of the modern street. Jungkook recalled times where he’d follow you inside when your parents yelled too much, or you had a fight with Youngho, or had a bad day at work. It was your solace of sorts, and Jungkook felt calm knowing that you had a place to escape to, even for only a few hours a day, to collect your thoughts. Those were always the times he wished he could show himself to you, wished he could comfort you and tell you you’d be alright. It had been hell watching you suffer in agony, and yet you always pushed your feelings aside to try and get the job done, whatever it might be.

Jungkook knew you well enough to know that the only reason the aftermath of your first meeting hadn’t quite hit you like it should was because you had been busying yourself with him.

You had been close last night, almost letting slip the loose hold on sanity you had as the events of your life began to rain down on you. But it seemed as long as you could scrub a bathroom sink bare or cook dinner, as long as you could focus on something that made  _sense,_  you could get by. You’d like to use the word “cope”, but it wasn’t really coping at all when even those little things could get overshadowed in the midst of the process now.

Books were the only other thing that kept your mind preoccupied from the emotional distress of your life, and that’s why he knew the store like the back of his hand. 

Pushing the door to the store open, your face relaxes and your mouth forms a warm grin, searching the seemingly vacant bookstore for any signs of the elderly owner. “Mr. Im? Are you here?” You ask, shuffling toward the counter that blocks your path toward the door behind it, most likely where the owner was. Mr. Im was the type to shut himself up in the back of his store lest someone came to ring the silver bell by the register, because then only then would he come running. You had asked him countless times if it was really safe to leave the store unlocked and unattended like this when he wasn’t paying attention, but he assured you that if anyone were to mess with his store, the wrath of heaven would punish them tenfold.

_If only he had any idea._

The door behind the counter opens, and you perk up, expecting to see the wrinkly, freckled face of Mr. Im, but blink in surprise when someone much taller, much brighter, and much,  _much_  younger comes out instead. It takes you a moment to recognize who it is, but when you do, your mouth falls open in shock, “J-Jaebum?” 

The man, who you’d only seen a few times on occasion, smiles warmly and greets you with a small wave, “(Name), haven’t seen you in a while. Gramps is in the back organizing some donations, so I’ll be manning the counter today. Maybe the rest of the week too.” He explains, getting to work on cleaning up the slightly cluttered counter. You knew Mr. Im would yell at him for it because he liked his organized mess, but Jaebum was nothing if he wasn’t the polar opposite of his grandfather. 

Jaebum’s eyes shoot up behind you, and then nods. “Who’s your friend?” 

You shoot Jungkook a wary look and then turn back to Jaebum. “This is Jungkook. A friend of mine…’s little brother.” At this, Jungkook narrows his eyes at the back of your head, but you don’t stop, “She asked me to babysit him, but since I’m working at the bar down the street and he’s underage…” You shrug, and what really gets Jungkook is that Jaebum accepts it without question. 

“Ah, I see. So you’re leaving him in my care?” Jaebum inquires, arms folded as he glances between you and an offended looking Jungkook every few seconds. 

“I’m leaving him in your grandpa’s care, actually. Jungkook won’t be a bother. He’ll just read in the back, and I’ll check up on him throughout the day.” Jaebum just nods at you, and then turns to Jungkook with a smaller smile, “Hey, kid, don’t worry. You’re in good hands.” 

Jungkook has the urge to tell both you  _and_  mister supermodel-looking-romance-drama male lead over there that he’s nearly three hundred years old and certainly no “kid”, but he refrains. 

Instead, he forces a smile and hums.

“Well, I should get going. Work starts in twenty and I want to be early-ish. So, Jungkook, if you need to get in touch with me for any problem that isn’t life-threatening, ask Jaebum to call me. Mr. Im has my number, and I’ll pick up right away for you, alright? I'll call you so we can get lunch together.” You turn to Jungkook to explain, and while the prospect of being so far away from you isn’t at all pleasant, Jungkook can only nod pliantly. He can't stomach getting in your way when you're trying so hard to stay afloat. 

When you’re sure he’s good and set, you wave the boys goodbye and head on your way for your first day at work at Hell’s Kitchen.

* * *

You’re surprised when you enter the bar and find that you're all alone. There's a few lights on but the bar looks pretty sleepy. Had Yoongi slipped up and told you to be here much earlier than he meant to? You look around for a little bit and then begin a search for your boss, hoping he’d be somewhere in the bar where you needed him. “Mr. Min?” You call out, looking around the main part of the place for any sign of life.

You're seconds from walking over to the door behind the bar, where you’d seen the two waiters from before carry those angry drunks last time, when it all but flies off the hinges, hitting you square in the nose. 

You fall back awkwardly, your head about to smack the hard ground if it wasn’t for the lightning fast reflexes of whoever hit you grabbing your arm and hoisting you back up onto your feet. You steady yourself, although dizzy, and hear a string of swears and apologies that blend into each other in the pained daze you’re in.

Finally, when your vision focuses, you look up and see the waiter from before. The clumsy one Yoongi had talked about.  _He wasn’t kidding…_

“I’m so sorry! Shit, you’re bleeding. This is the worst introduction ever. Yoongi’s going to kill me if he finds out I broke your nose-” “I doubt it’s broken.” Another voice interrupts the guy holding your forearms with a frantic look in his eyes. You both turn to see the dishwasher (the slightly peppier of the pair who had made conversation with you while scooping up an unconscious drunk from the floor) standing a few feet behind your assailant, his arm held out with a hand towel in his hand. 

“I’m really sorry. I’m Namjoon, by the way. The other waiter.” The first guy introduces himself, helping hold the towel to your nose, and you realize when he pulls the white towel back that it’s now stained red with your blood. You try to flex your nostrils and immediately cry out in pain, but one thing was for sure. It wasn’t broken... just really painful. 

“It’s… it’s fine. I’ve honestly felt worse. Would kill for some ice, though.” You gently take the towel from him and look in the reflection on the glass bottles next to you, gently wiping away the blood as Namjoon begins to fret in front of you.

The dishwasher, you thought was named Hoseok, hums and gently bumps Namjoon with his hip, stifling a laugh. “I’m surprised you’ve managed to injure them before they even start their shift.”

You watch as Namjoon turns red and you immediately feel bad for him, trying your best to smile through the pain in your nose as you turn to him, “Hey, Namjoon, really. I’m fine-” “What the hell did you two do?” 

You shiver and even Hoseok freezes up at the new voice, all three of you knowing very well who it was. Throwing a glance over your shoulder, you only see the dark haired bar owner for a few seconds before Namjoon is throwing himself in front of you, looking rather flustered. “Boss, I swear I didn’t mean to hit them. I didn’t even know they were here-” “Joon,” Yoongi starts, and moves until he can see you again. You’re holding the towel to your nose with slight panic and trying to decipher the look in his eyes but he doesn’t let on what he’s thinking, something you’ve come to find might be a consistent part of his expression. “…go take care of dinner.” 

Namjoon stiffens slightly, and then nods, before undoing his apron and handing it over to you in exchange for his jacket on the coat rack in the far corner of the bar. He slips it on quickly and gives you one last apologetic glance before disappearing outside. 

“Dinner? It’s barely eight in the morning.” You say, looking over at Hoseok who simply shrugs at you and slinks back into the kitchen, leaving you alone with Yoongi. When said man reaches out his hand toward you, you assume he’s going to take the apron from you and give you one of your own, but then he pushes your hand away and grabs for the other one, the one holding the bloody towel. 

Your eyes widen in confusion when he takes the towel and gently raises your chin up with one hand, the other meticulously wiping along under your nose as you stand helpless, stuck between wanting to pull away out of embarrassment and letting him assist you. He doesn’t say anything for a while, seemingly very focused on taking care of your nose. 

The silence carries for too long however, because you find yourself speaking without thinking, “Don’t be mad at Namjoon.” 

Yoongi laughs, “Why not? He gave my new employee a bloody nose. You could sue me, if you wanted.” “I don’t have the time, nor the energy, to think about suing you. I need this job more than I need a good nose.” Yoongi raises a brow at you, but doesn’t say much more. 

When he believes you’re all taken care of, he lets out a sigh and glances around the bar, at the few new people already entering, and then turns to you. “Well, since we lost a waiter, I guess you’re up.” 

You glance at the people with an uncertain expression, and then back to Yoongi, but he just smiles at you, grabbing the apron from your hands and tugging you from your place leaning against the counter to tie the apron around your stomach. You let out a surprised gasp, which he pays no mind to, and double knots the tie before stepping out of your space once more. While you stand before him, he just nods toward the notepad and stack of menus next to the counter, “Well, get going, doll. The food won’t serve itself.”

* * *

For your first day, your job isn’t as terrible as you brace yourself for it to be. Most of the customers are polite enough for bar dwellers, or at least have the decency to make it obvious they want to be left alone, so you get through the day fairly quickly. By the time lunch rolls around, you’re flitting this way and that like a pro, not missing the fact that Yoongi is watching the whole time. 

Every few minutes, you’ll catch him observing you bus tables, take orders, and serve the food. Having his eyes drilling holes into your back is exhausting, but at least you know you’re not messing up.  _Just a little while longer, and I can go visit Jungkook._

You smile at the thought, wondering what he was up to. You were glad he hadn’t needed to call you yet, which meant he was doing just fine at the bookstore. You expected that Jungkook would be able to handle himself if anything really  _did_  happen, but it didn’t stop you from worrying all the same.

You’re just done finishing up an order when you hear Yoongi call your name. As quickly as possible, you approach the bar, setting your notepad down, “Yes, sir?”

Yoongi’s eyes flash with amusement and… something else, before he lets it slide, “I need you to head in the back and grab that new bottle of cognac. It should be near the fridge, you won’t miss it, and if you do, ask Hoseok to help you find it.” He tells you, and you nod quickly, disappearing into the kitchen. 

You don’t immediately notice the alcohol, and when you take a glance around the kitchen, Hoseok is nowhere to be found either.  _Strange_. “Hoseok?” You call, looking this way and that for a sign of the friendly dishwasher. Still, you can’t seem to find him, no matter where you go in kitchen. Then, when you’re about to give up and ask Yoongi for help, you notice the exit door in the kitchen is propped open with a small block of wood. Right away, you zoom over to the door and push it open, question already spilling off your tongue before you take in your surroundings, “Hoseok, where’s the-” 

You expect to find him leaning against the brick walls of the alleyway, a cigarette in hand or focused on his cell phone screen or, hell, even just napping against a dumpster, but what you do find makes you sink back inside, leaving the door cracked a peek. Hoseok is there for sure, standing in the alleyway with his hands in his pockets and looking annoyed. He hasn’t seen you with his back turned toward you, and it seems he hasn't heard you yet either though you attribute the latter to the fact that someone else is with him.

It’s a familiar head of pink hair, one that you haven’t been able to forget since you first encountered it on the sidewalk that day... belonging to the well-spoken gentleman that Jungkook just didn’t like.

They’re talking, but they’re quite a distance away from each other and you. Their voices are so low that you can’t pick up anything they’re saying besides a few murmurs. Your curiosity nearly pushes you through the door and behind the dumpster, but you knew that pink hair would, what with his body turned toward you. But maybe, just maybe, if you were slow and crouched down low enough…

You’re seriously considering doing it when you feel a hand on your shoulder draw you back into the kitchen and away from the back door. You brace yourself, your eyes immediately focusing on Yoongi’s annoyed expression. He doesn’t seem to know what you were doing a moment before, just that you  _weren’t_ looking for the bottle of cognac like he asked you to. “I’m almost convinced I said next to the fridge, not out in the dumpster.” Yoongi huffs, and then raises said bottle of cognac up to your face, the neck of the bottle held tight by slender, pale fingers adorned in metal rings of all types. One, of which, happens to stand out to you for the first time. 

In particular, you momentarily forget how annoyed Yoongi is with you when you see the ring on his middle finger. It’s a simple black band, less intricate than the others, with a small, almost blurry red gem in the middle. Red and white liquid seems to be swimming around in the glass that seals it away, and, if you look hard, you can almost make out a faint glow from the ring. 

“Where did you get this ring?” You ask softly, suddenly entranced as you reach your hand toward the gem. There's a ticklish feeling in the back of your mind as your limbs go numb. It's like your mind becomes a vicious haze and every bit of reality leaves you. You have no idea what's going on, just that the ring looks _so_ appealing. In fact, the closer you look, the more attractive is. You even swear you start to see things inside it. You can only make out bits and pieces, but something whispers in your mind that if you could just hold it, you would know. All you can do is continue to reach forward, an urge like no other taking precedence over all common sense as you feel the press to just _touch, touch, touch_. Nothing else matters.

You’re seconds from doing just that when Yoongi grabs your wrist with the hand previously on your shoulder and pushes you back, knocking you right into said fridge you were supposed to be looking around. You wince at the impact and the haze leaves just as it came and, with it, comes a new memory. It's so strange, and yet you con’t dwell on it too long when Yoongi’s grip tightens. The feeling is sobering you, yes, but now you're all too aware of what just captured your interest in that beautiful ring of his. It terrifies you.

He leans in that much closer to you, the bottle being lowered as Yoongi gives you a glare that could freeze hell itself. For the second time since the fight in the bar, you’re fearful of the man before you. The difference between the first time and now is that back then, he was simply a man. Now... 

“Don’t touch that.” he growls, releasing your wrist from his grip to run a hand through his hair. You hold your wrist to your chest, unsure of what to do or say. Had you touched a sensitive spot with the ring? You hadn't meant to get so lost. You just could've sworn that there was something _in it_ , something like hellfire. 

“Sorry.” You whisper, clutching your wrist to find that while he hadn’t grabbed you hard enough to hurt you, the feeling of his fingers on your skin is embedded in your memory. His touch had felt hot, sizzling even, and for a moment you swore you felt his fingernails beginning to dig into into your pulse. 

Yoongi stops his hand dead in its tracks, halfway through his hair when he feels sharp nails digging into his scalp.  _His claws_. 

He quickly hides his hands behind his back, along with the cognac, and avoids eye contact with you, “Just… take your break. No harm, no foul.” He doesn’t sound very convincing saying it to you, but at  _least_  he’s saying it to you. You don’t ask for anything more as you shuffle out of the kitchen faster than he could finish his sentence, and he’s left to glare at the ring around his finger, glowing all knowingly as if to tease him.

When he’s sure you’re out of sight, he turns his back to the door and sighs. His claw grazes the surface of the gem, and immediately he’s given a glimpse of back home. The fire pits are blazing, his father is having the time of his life as usual, and if he listened close, he could hear the faint screams of the damned. Tapping the gem once more, the scene disappears into a handful of ashes that Yoongi kicks under the kitchen island. Had you gotten any closer to that thing, you might’ve accidentally transported the both of you to hell, and that'd be quite the situation to explain himself out of.

Yoongi startles at the sound of the door behind him shutting, and when he turns, he sees Hoseok, a little frightened at finding Yoongi in the kitchen of all places. If Yoongi wasn’t behind the bar, it usually didn’t mean anything good. “Boss…?” Hoseok wonders, carefully approaching the situation. Hoseok makes a quick note of Yoongi’s exposed claws and the red daring to dance in his eyes. He takes a quick sweep of the area for your possibly mangled body. 

“Nothing happened. They didn’t see… but it was a close call.” Yoongi whispers, glaring at the ring on his finger, wishing more now than ever to just burn the thing and be done with it. Most people let the rings on his fingers go unnoticed, but you… you were entranced by them. He'd never had that happen before. Yoongi had seen the slight haze overtaking your sight as you examined his ring, and he didn’t ever want to see it again. Yoongi didn’t know a lot about what kind of person he was, but he was sure that he wasn’t the kind of demon to trick innocent souls into hell. 

And besides that, he didn’t want to see you there.

It was hard to admit, but he knew what kind of life was in store for people who had no business in hell other than to burn. You were kind, and from his perception, a genuinely good person. You had no reason to ever be there. He  _hoped_ you’d have no reason to ever be there. Yet, he wondered as the fleeting presence of the being in the alley grew weaker, where  _your_ guardian angel might be. If he'd felt the fear you surely were teeming with, he would have exposed himself before Yoongi could have even sent you off.

“That angel stopped by again, brought up another offer. I told him I’d think about it.” Hoseok explains, going back over to his station to finish off the dishes he let soak. 

“What kind of offer?” As Yoongi asks, he notices his demon features beginning to shrink and subside in the reflection of the refrigerator doors and his breathing steadies. 

“Said he’d pay us well if we could help keep an eye on someone for him. Some angel that fell from grace that he's interested in. Apparently he’s lurking around here with his ex-charge.” 

“Hm. Did he give a name?” 

Yoongi watches as Hoseok shrugs, soap suds running down the young demon’s arms as he works through the dishes, “Yeah… I think it was Jungkook, or something.” 

Yoongi’s eyes widen, and suddenly, all he sees is you and the brunette from before.

* * *

 

Jungkook had wondered time and time before what it would be like for people to perceive him like they do other humans, to take his presence into enough consideration that they’d move out of his way if they walked toward each other on the street, or to mind his shoulder when they squeezed past him. He had even wondered what it would be like to be stared at, like he’d seen people do to others all the time. However, with Jaebum, a grown man with an unsettlingly stern gaze glaring holes into Jungkook’s forehead, he would’ve liked to melt into his seat instead.

Jaebum does not relent even as Jungkook squirms under his gaze, fiddling with the cover of a book he wasn’t even reading. It had only been a few hours since you had gone, but it felt like an eternity to Jungkook not being around you. 

“Friend’s little brother, huh? Which friend?” Jaebum questions, arms folded over his chest as he leans against a bookshelf. Jungkook had been with you before when you had hung out with Jaebum, so he knew that he was a nice guy, but boy did he have a presence. If Jungkook hadn’t been with you, he probably would’ve ducked out of the book store as soon as Jaebum was in sight, he was so nervous. 

“Um… Y-Yongsun’s.” “Kim Yongsun? You mean the… oh,” to Jungkook’s surprise, a blush colored Jaebum’s cheeks. Odd, “I didn’t know she had a little brother.”

Kim Yongsun was the name of the girl that had taken you under her wing a few years back in college. She happened to work at the same company as you-  _had_  worked at the same company as you. When things had gone to shit however, you had ignored most of her calls since. Jungkook did not miss when your phone would light up with several notifications from the older girl, always asking about your wellbeing. It wasn’t a mystery to Jungkook why you never replied; Yongsun was the one who had taken your job, after all.

“Not your fault, she acts like I don’t exist sometimes.” Jungkook forces a casual smile onto his face, and while Jaebum smiles back, something about his expression is unbelieving. 

Toying with the loose thread on a chair nearby, Jaebum perches himself onto the arm of one, “Hey, can I ask you a favor?” 

Jungkook only nods, his curiosity piqued. 

“How is (Name), really? I know they put up a brave front sometimes, but after seeing them today… I don’t know, something was off. You felt it too, right?” Observant as ever, Im Jaebum. And here Jungkook had thought you had done some of the best emotion masking in your life that morning. 

“I’m sure it’s nothing. Just work stress. Yongsun talks to them about it all the time,” she  _used_  to, anyway, “They’ll be fine.” “They work in a bar now. Last time I’d heard from them, they were making way as a journalist, with the best job in the world in their eyes. Now they're serving drinks at a dump like Hell’s Kitchen. What happened?"

For someone that you hadn’t talked to in a while, Jaebum sure was picking up on a lot. Jungkook was not sure if he was in a place to tell Jaebum anything you hadn’t, so he settled for a nonchalant shrug, “Dunno. You’d have to ask Yongsun.”

And while Jaebum wanted to press more on the topic, he decided it best to leave it be. At best, Jungkook probably wanted nothing more than to be anywhere but here talking to someone like him. He could cut him some slack. _Some_.

Instead, he flips tables completely, “Man, I could’ve sworn Yongsun said she was an only child-” “Jungkook!” 

The two men talking startle at your shrill voice, and Jungkook is running toward you at high speed, slower than he used to be able to, but fast enough that you stumble back before he could collide with you. His hands fly to your shoulders and his eyes begin to scan your body for any visible signs of bruising or injury, his words flying out before he can censor them, “Are you okay? I thought you said you’d call. Why did you run over here? Your heartbeat is too fast, take a breath. Are you-” 

Your hands grasp at his wrists and squeeze, his attention snapping back to your face, mouth closing. When you give him a warning look, he remembers the other presence in the room. Jungkook glances over at the extremely skeptical look on Jaebum’s face and curses under his breath. 

“I just… came to get you for lunch.” You tell him, attempting to smile to alleviate the awkwardness. “We’ll be back in an hour, JB. Thank you so much!” You encircle Jungkook’s wrist with your fingers, a vice-like grip as Jaebum half-heartedly waves, his eyes never leaving yours and Jungkook’s hands until you two are outside and out of sight.

* * *

Despite the gentle melody of the song playing above your heads and the delicious food sitting before you, Jungkook is immobile.

He watches as you fret over how hot your fries are, how the place is new and trendy and you’ve always wanted to go, how much Jaebum has changed since the last time you saw him, but you don’t say anything about why you looked so frazzled when you had come for him.

There was no mistaking it, no trick of the eye when Jungkook saw the wide-eyed, terrified look on your face. 

“What’s wrong?” He asks, and your hand stills around your sweating glass of lemonade. He doesn’t miss the slight tremor in your hand when you do, either.

You had, in your time of knowing Jungkook, asked him many things about angels. You knew that they had rules to follow just like humans did, you knew that angels sinned just like humans did, and you knew that angels lived as humans amongst you at every turn. What you didn’t know, however, was the nature of their opposite kind. 

It had never really been brought up, save for when Jungkook had explained that fallen angels could become demons if they wanted to remain forever immortal, but that was it. You hadn’t inquired about hell or the beings that resided there as far as that went. Maybe it was because you didn’t care. Or maybe it was because you hoped you’d never need to know a thing about demons for as long as you lived. All the stories you heard about them weren’t very pleasant, after all.

But there was no mistaking what you saw, what you  _felt_ , when you looked into Yoongi’s ring.

“So, uh, this is gonna sound stupid,” and Jungkook gives you no reaction, “but… I… think I saw something.”

“What did you see?” Jungkook’s hands find each other under the table, squeezing hard in an attempt to keep them from shaking. 

Your fingers finally release your drink and it’s covered in water droplets that sting your palm from the coldness. When you look down at your hand, you see the sunlight glimmer on the water and you see flashes of white fire in your mind’s eye. A shiver runs through you as you choke out, “Hell.”

Jungkook is verbally non-responsive, and when you look up from your hand to his face, his mouth is pulled into a tight line and his eyes are frozen in place. Even when you move from side to side, he stares straight ahead, as if in a trance. 

You start to worry that you’ve completely broken him when he suddenly snaps out of it, his expression harder and a lot more worrying. Cautiously, his hands part and one reaches across the table to touch the back of yours, your fingers tingling at the brush of his touch, “What did it look like?”

You’re taken aback by his question, all too calm. You had expected him to tell you you’d seen no such thing, or in the least, tell you the gruesome truth: that seeing hell was probably a prophecy from the heavens and you were going to be struck down in a fortnight. “It looked… kind of nice. Not like, the Four Seasons nice, but close. There were pretty stone walls with paintings on it, like the paintings you’d see in the Louvre. It looked like I was in a really large cave. And I also saw a… throne. A black, marble throne covered in a red velvet throw, like a throne that belongs to some evil monarch or a Disney villain. I saw bright fire all over the place, licking at the chair, but nothing was burning. I felt it on my skin too, but I wasn’t hurt. It actually felt kind of nice. Inviting.”

As you explain, the thought sounds crazier and crazier to you. How could that be hell, when it was so nice? When you had pictured hell, you had maybe pictured pools of blood and charred, severed limbs, but all you’d seen was a throne. In fact, had the thought of it being hell not been so vivid in your head, you wouldn’t have called it hell at all. But you knew. Deep in your bones, even if it didn’t look that way, it felt that way.

Jungkook seems to be lost in thought as he listens to you, his mouth set in a firm line. If you had been anyone else in the cafe, you might’ve thought that you two were a disastrous couple coming to the end of their relationship, all love lost. 

“Where did you see this hell, then? Was it in a daydream? A vision?” He asks, his voice steady, almost deadpan. 

“In my boss’ ring.” 

Jungkook startles and he’s suddenly completely alert, his expression turning worrying, “Your boss? Who is he? What does he look like? Has he threatened you? Where-” “Jungkook!” You interrupt, your eyes widening as you see nearby customers looking on at you two in curiosity. Jungkook’s loud voice dims some when he realizes others are listening, and his heart hammers in his chest with the desperation to know, “Take me to him. I need to see him with my own eyes to know if he’s a demon.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Jungkook. What if he really _is_ a demon? You’re almost completely mortal now. If something happens… he might kill you and you’ll be damned to hell.” You whisper the last part, your vision shaky as you avoid Jungkook’s sizzling gaze. Even as you tell him it’s a bad idea, you can already feel him ignoring you.

You just don’t expect him to actually get up and leave you there. 

Your mouth gapes in shock when Jungkook stands, his chair skidding hard across the floor at his urgency. People watch as Jungkook walks away from you, heading toward the doors of the restaurant with a determination that you feel still sitting in your seat ten feet away. When he pushes the door open and the bell dings from above, you realize that you need to follow after him, or something bad really might happen. 

Throwing down just enough cash to cover the bill, you profusely apologize to the stunned waitress and follow Jungkook as fast as your legs can carry you to the door.

When you get outside, you groan in frustration, seeing his form getting closer and closer to the bar. He doesn’t mind the people on the sidewalk that he bumps into, and despite how much you struggle to walk faster, he’s got you well for distance. You’re just arriving at the crossroads to get to the bar when he walks in.

Throwing caution to the wind, you sprint across the oncoming traffic, the sound of horns falling on deaf ears. As soon as the handle to the door comes into reach, you rip it open and throw yourself inside the bar, readying yourself for whatever you might see. Jungkook with Yoongi by the collar, Yoongi with  _Jungkook_  by the collar, the bar up in flames… every ridiculous scenario only grows in ridiculousness the longer you went with Jungkook out of sight. 

Furiously looking around the bar, you barely register how completely empty it is until the door slams shut behind you with such force that the walls vibrate and your blood runs cold. Jungkook appears from a shaded corner of the bar, falling to the ground and hitting the floor with a thud, his lip bleeding and his face beginning to bruise. When you see him look up at you with a groan, your heart begins to ache behind your ribcage. 

Hoseok and Namjoon walk out from the corner Jungkook had fallen from, both taking an arm of Jungkook’s and yanking them painfully behind his back. Jungkook grunts when Hoseok presses a foot into the middle of Jungkook’s back, the dishwasher laughing softly when Jungkook groans. Your sorrow increases seeing him so utterly defenseless against these… were they people? Were they really human after all?

“Let him go!” You yell, but the two don’t pay you any mind, only pulling on Jungkook’s arms tighter. 

You see Jungkook struggle against the floor, his mouth moving as best as it can under the strain of a busted and bruised lip, “Go… now.” He manages just loud enough for the three of you to hear. 

“Calm down, you two.” Another voice says, coming from the kitchen. Your blood starts to boil when you see Yoongi enter, his expression and tone nonchalant as always. He barely looks at you when you rush up to him, the fury of seeing your angel in pain driving you to lose all sense you might've had otherwise. You’re sure if you had been in the right state of mind, you might’ve reconsidered rushing up to a possible demon and grabbing them by the shirt, but you weren’t in your right mind. You were  _pissed_.

“It’s barely been a minute since he got here, what could he have possibly done to warrant him getting hurt?!” You growl, grabbing Yoongi's tee and bunching it in your fists. It must be a sight to the three others in the room; you, an unworthy opponent in comparison to Yoongi, grabbing him by the shirt and getting in his face like you were willing to take him one on one, much like the drunks from the other day. Unworthy, meaning you’d seen what he could do to two grown men much bigger than he with a simple punch to the face. 

Yoongi rolls his head toward you, eyes as dark and dead as usual. You hear shuffling behind you, but Yoongi raises a hand, and when you chance a look back, Hoseok and Namjoon are both giving you death glares, prepared to pounce on you if you made any false moves. 

“Do you know who you keep company with, doll?” Yoongi hums, careful, unafraid. He lets you hold him like this like he wasn’t planning for you to follow through with getting physical. Maybe because he could stop you before you did. That only pissed you off more. 

Your grip only tightens on him, your jaw set, “Don’t patronize me. I’m smarter than you think.” 

“I think you’re  _very_  smart.” Yoongi doesn’t miss a beat. You can’t find a trace of dishonesty in his voice either, and it almost makes you loosen your grip on him. Almost.  “But even the smartest people can be blind to things they weren’t meant to see in the first place. Your little friend over there is no good.” 

“(Name), you were right,” You hear Jungkook say from behind you, “he’s  _exactly_  what you think he is.” Another pained groan leaves him, and you assume that Namjoon and Hoseok are still hurting him. Knowing the predicament now, your worry only grows. If you were right, Min Yoongi was a demon, and so were his lackeys currently battering your angel for no good reason.

Yoongi tilts his head when your eyes widen, but he makes no move to harm you like you expect. You think that maybe he might fling you across the room and into the wall, hard enough to kill you on impact. Or, maybe he might mind control you and make you forget ever knowing him or the bar. Or maybe he might simply snap your neck right then and there. But he does none of it.

He only watches. He only waits. He waits for your first move.

“Let him go, Yoongi.” You reiterate. 

“No.” Yoongi replies casually. 

“You do know what he is, don’t you?” Namjoon snarls, drawing your attention away from the demon before you. Namjoon looks down at Jungkook in pure disgust, “He’s an angel. Or was. He fell from heaven because he did some bad shit.” 

“He saved my life, asshole.” You growl, finally releasing Yoongi to face the other instead. Your rage gets the better of you, and before you can run over to Namjoon and give him a piece of your mind, Yoongi’s got one arm tightly wrapped around your middle, dragging you right back. 

“Namjoon, Hoseok, shut your traps. You don’t have any clue what that kid has done.” Yoongi huffs over your shoulder as you squirm in his hold, but his strength is infuriatingly unreal. He holds you tight enough so you can’t start swinging, but he doesn’t hurt you. He holds you to stop you from making a bad decision, and while you hate that you can’t make said bad decision, you’re quietly thankful that your death could be postponed for a bit.

“Nah, but you do, boss. What’s he done that’s so bad?” Hoseok asks, raising an inquisitive eyebrow at Yoongi. You look up at him too, your anger calming the longer they talk. The two demons in the corner of the room don’t seem to be hurting Jungkook anymore, and you can only hope Yoongi would give the go ahead for them to let him go already.

Slowly loosening his arm around you, Yoongi rolls his eyes, “Exactly what they said he did. He saved their life. Now get off him, he can hardly do anything to you two. He’s about mortal now.”

Hoseok and Namjoon finally back off and Jungkook lets out a strangled breath, pushing himself off of the floor with shaking arms. He looks completely drained, and you wonder just what else they’ve done to him to make him so weak. You rush over to him, hands reaching out to grab his arm and help him up, but he refuses you with a small, strained smile. “All good. Don’t worry about me.” He says, but you can hardly believe it. Still, you back away. You know insisting wouldn't help much anyway. 

“So… you knew?” Namjoon asks, having the audacity to look almost sheepish when he sees the angry look in your eyes that you shoot his way. 

“Yes. What I want to know is why you two jumped him first thing. I know you’re demons but-” “I told them to.” 

Yoongi interrupts the two of you, making his way behind the bar to start cleaning the dirty glasses. His rings glitter under the bar lights and you’re quickly reminded of what you’d seen, your heart stammering at the sight of that same glowing ring again. It still looked beautiful. It still looked entrancing. “I was worried he hadn’t told you what he was, and that he was planning to hurt you. But… then I saw his sins. I still took precaution, though. Can’t trust a fallen angel, they’re about as bad as demons.”

You suddenly feel bad for getting so angry at Yoongi before, yet part of you refuses to take back your anger even for a second, “But he didn’t do anything that bad. He just saved me from… from… myself. Twice. If it wasn’t for him, I wouldn’t be here today.” “I know.” Yoongi answers, his tone steady with a hint of solemn. He doesn’t look condescending, or like he’s going to start coddling you and asking if you’re doing alright, and you’re quietly thankful.

“Why can you see his sins and they can’t?” You motion to Namjoon and Hoseok, your brows furrowed. “Aren’t you all demons?”

“We’re nowhere near on the same level. We may be demons but… he’s…” Hoseok says, his stance suddenly appearing… meek? 

“The king.” Jungkook whispers from beside you, taking a seat at a nearby table. His hand finds yours and he holds it lightly, looking up at you with a grave look. You suddenly shift back, but Jungkook’s hold on your hand keeps you from falling.

Yoongi scoffs from behind the bar, working diligently at the glass in his hand, “King, my ass. I’m the  _prince_. My dad is still kicking around in hell, having his fun as usual.” Yoongi takes the same glass he’d been cleaning and pours himself a shot of whiskey, downing it in one gulp without a change in expression. 

“Wait, are you telling me that you’re Satan's son? I physically threatened the devil's son?” Your voice squeaks embarrassingly at the realization, but all Yoongi does is smirk. You then turn to Jungkook, “Why didn’t you  _stop_  me?” 

“I was too busy spitting up blood.”

You have half a mind to hit him for his sarcastic remark. You remember he’s still in pain, so all you do is glare.

“I wouldn’t hurt you anyway. It’s not my policy to bother humans if they don’t bother me,” Yoongi explains, pouring himself another shot, “it’s part of the reason I’m up here and dad is down there. I actually kinda _like_  you guys.”

The prince of hell liked humans and whiskey. Who knew?

“Anywho, now that I know lover boy over here isn’t a threat to you, I’ll work my magic. Shouldn’t hurt.” Yoongi saunters over from the bar, setting his glass down on the table in front of Kook. The demon prince reaches his hand toward Jungkook’s and the former angel flinches, but Yoongi hums a soft, reassuring “it’s okay” before his palm makes contact with Jungkook’s bruised cheek. You watch in mesmerized awe as a faint glow emits from Yoongi’s palm and against Jungkook’s skin, and then- 

“Fuck!” Jungkook yells, and you tumble back in surprise as his yell turns into a guttural growl. He's got a bitch of a hold on your hand too, which you imagine is in lieu of another string of fierce cursing. You can hear Namjoon and Hoseok snickering lightly from behind you, muttering about never hearing an angel swear before. The boy takes quick deep breaths as Yoongi removes his hand. “You said it wouldn’t hurt.” 

“I lied. Demons can get away with that kinda thing. Besides, you had a broken broken rib, moron.” Yoongi huffs, pushing the glass of whiskey Jungkook’s way.  _All good? All good my ass,_ you think, trying your very best not to snap at Jungkook _again_ for lying.

The glass slots perfectly in Jungkook’s awaiting palm, but he makes no move to drink it. You realize it’s his first time ever drinking alcohol, and you bet the boy is nervous from how dark and daunting it looks. He’s seen it before, and he knows its effects (hell, he’s been around you when you’ve been drunk off a bottle of vodka. the effects were messy). “Go on, kid.  _That_  actually won’t hurt you. It’ll sting but…”

Jungkook carefully picks up the glass, looking at it like the liquid might swirl out of the glass and shoot down his throat if he dares open his mouth even a little, so he keeps it shut tight. 

“Kook,” you whisper, softly patting his shoulder with your free hand, “alcohol is actually pretty nice for when you’re in physical pain.” You watch as the bruises and cuts on Jungkook’s face slowly seal up and heal thanks to Yoongi's power, wondering if the ache would still be around when his scars were no more. 

Jungkook looks over at you, the glass cupped between his fingers before he suddenly takes a gulp of the liquid, and you cringe as he immediately splutters a little bit out, accidentally coating some of Yoongi’s face in it. When Jungkook comes back to himself and stops coughing at the burn, he notices his mistake and grimaces, leaning away from the prince and into you. 

You quietly squeeze his hand, worried that Yoongi might yell or get physical, and with the added knowledge that he was the prince of hell, it only made you that much more anxious for your angel’s wellbeing.

But he does none of that. In fact, all he does is… laugh. Hard.

His mouth opens so wide that you can see his gums and all of his teeth, and he laughs so happily that it’s contagious, spreading to Hoseok and Namjoon, and then gradually to you and Jungkook (albeit reluctantly). Yoongi has no traces of malice in his expression as he wipes his face clean with his apron, still laughing in his chair as he shakes his head. 

When he opens his eyes to look at Jungkook again, his smile overtakes half his face and the look in his eyes is undeniably fond. “You’re alright, kid. I think we’ll get alone fine. So long as being a demon prince doesn’t put a damper on (Name) working here…?” He looks up at you, his smile faltering a bit. “I’d understand if you want to resign.” 

“No,” Your cheeks burn at the speed at which you answer, and Yoongi raises a quizzical eyebrow, clearly amused but not saying anything about it. You were starting to admire that quality of his. “I’m good… as long as I can trust you guys. And so long as you won’t hurt Jungkook again.” 

“I told you, I was just worried about you, doll.” Yoongi reassures, patting Jungkook’s knee as if to show he meant no harm. However, a cough from Hoseok makes Yoongi’s mood change, and when you look between the two, you see Hoseok nod his head at Jungkook, saying something you can’t decipher with his eyes.

Yoongi’s mouth opens as he inhales a sharp breath, and then he clears his throat, glancing at you for a moment before turning to Jungkook, “Well… there was another reason.”

“Which was?” You ask, nose scrunching up at the sudden change in atmosphere. Jungkook’s hand clams up in your hold, but he doesn’t let go.

“Apparently… an angel has a bounty out for him. Now, I don’t go around doing deals with angels in my free time or anything. I rather despise the lot hanging around my bar when their charges come for a drink to unwind, but this one is a persistent little bastard. His name is Seokjin. Ever heard of him?”

Jungkook’s shoulders tense and his hand slowly leaves yours, “I’ve heard his name, but I’ve never seen him before. He was a pretty high ranking angel in heaven so we never crossed paths. Why would he be looking for me?”

“Hoseok's the one that's been talking to him. Said that you were an angel who committed a terrible sin and that recompense was due. He’s been asking around to all the supernatural beings in the area, hoping to find you. He never mentioned what you did, just that he was looking for you.” Yoongi explains. There’s a wrinkle in his forehead when he says this, and he shoots a fleeting look at you again. “I see all your sins kid. None of ‘em seem worth a bounty to me.” 

“You see all my sins? So you know what my third sin was right? The first two, I know, I interfered with human life and fate and whatever, but the third one… what was it? My friend told me I’d find out soon enough, whatever that means.” Jungkook says, and you recall Jimin from before. Part of you wanted to summon the angel yourself to ask him face to face, but neither you nor Jungkook knew how to do so without angelic power in the mix. Angelic power you no longer had at your disposal.

Yoongi’s lips thin, his gaze turning slightly stern. “Jungkook… I don’t think I should be the one to tell you.” 

“Why not?” Jungkook presses, tone exasperated. You too were growing curious of what exactly had put him out of heaven, of what had been so bad yet Jungkook couldn’t remember it for the life of him. 

Yoongi hisses under his breath, “Because it’s not my place to tell. You will know sooner or later, trust me, you will figure out. But don’t ask me to tell you again.” 

You can tell that Jungkook wants to press for more again but he doesn’t, instead resigning to leaning back into you, his head resting against your stomach while he heaves a heavy sigh. You can feel the exhaustion in his every breath, and you wonder if you’re supposed to care this much, if it’s normal to feel so close to someone you really only found about a few days ago. It didn’t make much sense to you, but you had felt closer to Jungkook than you had when he was still fully angel. You wondered if he felt the same.

“What do we do then? If Seokjin wants Jungkook, what can we do?” You ask Yoongi, your arm wrapping around Jungkook's shoulders to try and give him some comfort. Your hand rests on the skin of his upper arm, squeezing. 

The prince of hell shrugs, leaning back into his seat with an even expression. “I could turn the kid into a demon, but I'd need his permission and I doubt he'd give it. If not that… then I guess you’d have to come at Seokjin full force, stop him yourself. But if Jungkook’s telling the truth about that angel being a higher up, you’d be better off digging your graves. He’s influential, and he seems to know his way around godly law, doing shady shit with demons without getting caught or banished from heaven. He’s definitely no idiot.”

The grim realization makes your hand still on Jungkook’s shoulder, the calming massage you’d been giving him coming to an end, and Jungkook gives you a questioning look, biting his freshly healed lip. That lip is thankfully back to its full, perfectly unscarred condition once more, thanks to Yoongi’s healing. 

Looking into Jungkook’s eyes, you imagine how it would feel having Jungkook taken from you, given a punishment worse than death or eternal damnation in hell, and your grip tightens on him involuntarily. You'd only had him here for so long, and you already knew that if you lost him you really might not be able to come back from that. He'd done so much for you, putting his life on the line just to save yours countless times. You knew, too, that he wouldn't have blamed you if this became all too much for you and you asked him to go. In the end, he did everything for you without asking for anything in return. And, frankly, you needed someone like him in your life more than ever. You couldn't let this Seokjin guy get away with this. You'd do whatever it took to keep Jungkook safe, even if the forces you were up against refused to relent. 

Yoongi now has your full attention, "Alright then, full force it is."

No, that wasn’t going to happen. He wasn’t going anywhere.


End file.
